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VIGNETTES 



DERBYSHIRE. 



BY THE AUTHOR OF ''THE LIFE OF A BOY. 



A land of brooks of water: of fountains, and depth?, that 
spring out of the hills. 



DEUTERONOMY. 



LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR G. AND. W. B. WHITTAKER. 

AVE-MARIA-LANE. 

1824. 



I 






*-: 



■40 



L O N D ON: 

PRINTED BY COX AND BAYLIS, GREAT QUEEN STREET. 






TO 

F. L. CHANTRY, Esq., R.A., F.R.S. 



To him whose talents have added dis- 
tinction to Derbyshire, and destined Norton 
to be immortalized with the name of 
Chantry, even as Urbino became with that 
of Raffaelle, these shadows of his native 
country are most respectfully inscribed. 

MARY STERNDALE. 

Sheffield, 1824. 



PREFACE. 



It has been generally admitted, that the inhabi- 
tants of mountainous regions feel a livelier attach- 
ment to their native home, than those who reside in 

more fertile and cultivated districts and so it is. 

The Swiss stand foremost on the record— the Scotch 
follow closely in their local affections. The Arab 
of the Desert is identified with the land of his birth 
and why it is so, those who have felt and che- 
rished this love of country can readily say, 

Why the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, 
But bind them to their native country more. 

Separated at all times by toilsome heights and ex- 
tensive moors, and half the year by vapours, clouds 
and darkness, the intercourse of friends and neigh- 



bours, the glow of hospitality, the spirit of social 
happiness, and the association of personal communi- 
cation, exist with more ardency, and is displayed 
with more energy, than where refinement polishes 
manners, and complaisance supersedes feeling ; and 
thus the social principle, from not being exhausted 
in daily intercourse with indifferents, gains strength 
and vigour from the interruption it is compelled to 
endure. 

Confiding that the inhabitants of our English 
Apennines feel the same endearing sentiments to- 
wards their own Hills and Dales, their Moorlands 
and their Mountains, to them this little volume of 
Derbyshire Localities, written from personal feeling 
and observation, is offered. 

To those who are not the children of its soil, such 
glimpses of their own England may be accepted; 
whilst to others who are far away from the White 
Isle of their birth, they may come over their souls 
like music in the night, awakening them to fond and 



home recollections ; they will feel, though the work 
be simple, the subject is elevated ; that it is the first 
and last sentiment that enters into, and presides in 
the mind of man. 

No where he thinks the sun so mildly gleams, 
As on the banks where first he drank its beams : 
So green no other mead, so smiles no other land ! 

Where'er he wanders, his returning mind, 
Feels without it, e'en Paradise unblest — 
Oh be the boding true that swells his breast ! 

To lay him in its lap, amidst his sires reclin'd ! 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Ashford-in-the-Water 1 

Hathersage ♦ 8 

MonsalDale, with Cresbrook...... 33 

Wardlow-Meers a •• 51 

Tideswell Church , 59 

CheeTorr ...... 79 

Stanton- Woodhouse 83 

Norton ,. fc 90 

Norton-Lees 99 

Duchess of Devonshire *..... 106 

Countess of Besborough 120 

Eyam, with Miss Seward 125 



I 



ASHFORD-TN-THE-WATER. 



During a short autumnal visit, in 1822, 
amidst the sweetest and most sylvan part of 
the Peak of Derbyshire, the little village of 
Ashford-in-the- Water was not the least attrac- 
tive. Possessing those requisites that adorn 
and accommodate a village residence — re- 
quisites that, whilst they contribute to the 
conveniences of its inhabitants, are pleasing 
to the eye of the traveller, and gratifying to 
the heart of humanity — a corn-mill, with its 
appendages of water-wheels and water- falls; 
an ancient church, with its grass-grown burial 
ground; a long-extended bridge, neat cot- 
tages, and a village green, with wood and 



2 ASHFORD-IN-THE- WATER. 

water interspersed, as its significant name 
denotes. Though placed at the extremity of 
one of the wildest of the dales, Demon's Dale, 
and in the vicinity of those mountain fractures, 
through which the Wye forces its rocky chan- 
nel, it is cheerful, open, and airy; presenting 
amidst and aloof from its village houses, two 
or three of a superior order, the association 
of whose inhabitants must be of a higher 
nature. 

But the gem of Ashford is yet untold. 
Passing the village on the Manchester road 
we enter a gently marked hollow way, 
bounded on the right by a steep orchard-slope, 
and on the left by a high wall over-hung with 
lofty trees, that skreen the roof and chimnies 
of a house apparently the residence of some 
of the gentry of the country, to which the 
close folding gates that open from the road 
present an access. If by favour or presump- 



ASHFORD-IN-THE-WATER. 3 

tion you pass their barrier, and proceed a 
hundred paces down a confined carriage way, 
you will arrive in line with the front of the 
house, and peep within the casket where lies 
the emerald treasure. 

The house, " above a cot, below a seat/' is 
not alone the property of his Grace the Duke 
of Devonshire, but the occasional residence. 
It stands under the shadow of those lofty 
trees that exclude all objects but those they 
surround. The capacious bow- window of an 
oblong dining-room expands upon the gravel 
walk adjoining the soft green turf that almost 
imperceptibly slopes to the water's edge ; not 
an artificial lake or forced fish-pool, but the 
sounding, sparkling Wye, that, with all the 
freshness of a mountain stream, with all the 
windings of its characteristic course, with 
all the beauty of its living waters, rushes 
through the sylvan domain. 
b 2 



4 ASHFORD-JN-THE- WATER. 

Fronting the windows a light bridge unites 
the two savannas ; the opposite turf rising 
gradually to its extremity, is also bounded 
by its grove of trees, that skirts the extended 
bank. The lawn on each side the river is 
broken only by little patches of the choicest 
flowers, and the mould from whence they 
spring is covered with mignonette, whose 
rich perfume fills the sweet air with its fra- 
grance, rising as incense to hallow this temple 
of the Floral, of the sylvan, of the lucid deities. 
The house is covered, from the base to the 
chimney's topmost ledge, with trellis; and 
when the climbers begin to ascend, and the 
creepers to run, the passion-flower to sanc- 
tify, and the clematis to empurple, it will 
indeed become a perfect bower of beauty ; 
and it is a sweet reflection that he, who a 
prince in the palace of his forefathers, upon 
the banks of the Derwent, who is in posses- 



ASH FORD -IN THE- WATER. 5 

sion of all that rank, and station can bestow, 
that wealth can give, and ambition desire, 
selects and adopts this rustic hijou> this verd- 
unique, this little fishing-house, on the banks 
of the winding Wye ; which, after having 
run its race with mountain swiftness, through 
the sylvan hamlet of King's Sterndale, by the 
wild solitudes of Chee Torr, the rocky passes 
of Miller's Dale, the deep clefts of Cresbrook, 
and the fairy scenes of Monsal, wantons and 
sports beneath the eye of the Lord of Har- 
tington, from whence its native waters spring, 
before it take its final way to the shining 
east, and mixes with the classic waves of 
Derwent. 

There, perhaps, may the Duke of Devon- 
shire look around, and say with complacent 
feelings subdued from the world ; with the 
hereditary feelings of she who bore him, and 
whose memory he sanctifies : « Here is enough 
B 3 



6 ASH FORD- IN- THE- WATER. 

for the heart of man, the rest is my country's 
and my forefathers' !" Perhaps, like the great 
statesman of Elizabeth, may, after he has 
passed the humble gates, take off his courtly 
robes, and say, " There lie, my Lord Chancel- 
lor !" and in sport, even as I did in thought, 
amplify comparison upon the sweet enchant- 
ment. 

To Chatsworth, gorgeous Chatsworth, it is 
but a light trinket hung to a costly watch ; 
or a single blossom of the jasmine by the side 
of the imperial rose ; or a solitary star, sail- 
ing in the wake of the resplendent moon ; or 
the scent of the violet, that rises upon the 
air, which the perfumes of Arabia have ex- 
hausted ; or the song of the robin, after the 
full choirs of the groves had died away ; or 
the emerald light of the glow-worm shining 
upon the darkness that succeeded the blazing 
torches ; or the shepherd's pipe upon the 



ASH FORD-IN- THE- WATER. 7 

mountains, when the echoes of the brazen 
trumpets had ceased ; or the still small voice 
of grateful praise, when the pealing anthem, 
and the loud response no longer filled the 
cathedral's lofty arches : — it was all this, and 
more ; itwas nature's lullaby from the tumult 
of the world ; the eye revelling in its beauty, 
and the mind reposing in its quietness, whilst 
its balmy sweetness pervaded the purest joy 
of sense, and all its green attractions, and its 
lucid animations, took captive the heart of 
woman, who saw in its combined delights the 
reflection of her primeval home. 



b 4 



( 8 ) 



HATHERSAGE. 

In Doomsday -Book £i Heather-edge" 



Induced by the love of Derbyshire — love 
connected with the unanalyzed enjoyment of 
childhood, the conscious pleasures of youth, 
the remembrance of beloved friends, and an 
innate feeling forks peculiar scenery — 1 joined 
a lady and gentleman in a little pedestrian 
tour across the high moors, that rise westward 
of the south of Yorkshire, having never pre- 
viously passed them but by the whirling rapi- 
dity of four wheels, upon the beaten road of 
public communication. To avoid egotism so 
circumstanced is impossible ; out out of re- 
spect to my readers, / will be as unobtrusive 



HATHERSAGK. 9 

as the relation will admit. It was a fine au- 
tumnal afternoon, early in October, that we 
entered upon " Flodden's high and heathery 
side/' gradually ascending five miles from 
Sheffield, its beautiful vicinity presented to 
our ever- ad miring and retrospective view. 
Two further miles of steeper ascent, brought 
us to the summit from whence the first sight 
of Southern Yorkshire is viewed by the tra- 
veller from the West; whilst all the hills of 
Derbyshire were seen before us, stretching 
themselves in horizontal lines, or rising in 
fantastic peaks ; some obscured in the hazi- 
ness of distance, others bright in the glow of 
afternoon. From this height a gentle descent 
leads to one of those bridges of a single arch, 
♦ that so frequently occur upon these moors, 
thrown across the deep gullies that the winter 
torrents wear amidst the windings of the hills, 
The channel beneath was then dry, but its 



10 HATHERSAGE. 

stony bed was blanched by the summer's sun, 
that marked its course. We sat upon the low 
parapet to rest and to admire : — purple heath, 
golden furze, and emerald moss, covered the 
hollow space, whilst the brow r n hills rose, and 
encircled us on every side; all was silence, 
uninterrupted by bird or beast, by the hush- 
ing 1 of winds or the murmur of waters, and 
the intense solitude Would almost have be- 
come painful, but from the consciousness that 
the rise of the next hill would restore us to 
our own world. We gained its summit, 
looking over a valley of nine or ten miles 
extent, at the termination of which the lofty 
head of Mam-Torr appeared, but upon a level 
with us, yet rising in maternal pre-eminence 
over all her surrounding children ; its shining 
front dark in its eastern aspect, whilst the 
intervening peaks were glowing in the 
radiance of the setting sun : the whole scene 



HATH ERS AGE. 11 

bearings as I have heard a travelled friend ob- 
serve, a striking resemblance to the vicinity 
of Messina. 

A winding descent of three miles leads to 
Hathersage, a village in the very bosom of 
the mountains. The church, a handsome and 
ancient edifice, standing upon a conical hill in 
its centre, and its taper spire presenting a 
beautiful object from the different openings of 
the hills, when no other denotes the proximity 
of social life. Its church-yard is the reputed 
burial place of the bow-bearer of Robin 
Hood ; and as the birth-place of that bold 
and generous outlaw, has been almost ascer- 
tained to have been at Loxley (a wild dis- 
trict that is a continuation of this moorland 
continent), it is very probable that little John, 
so called, because he was the very reverse, was 
buried at Hathersage. Two ancient upright 
stones stand at the distance of twelve feet, 



Y2 HATHERSAGE. 

marking the" place from whence the gigantic 
skeleton was inhumed, part of the bones being 
yet preserved within the church. From my 
chamber window, whose open sash admitted 
the full tide of Derbyshire air, a bold moun- 
tain presented its lofty sides, just nigh enough 
to become an intimate companion, just far 
enough, to form a picture for the painter'seye. 
Several little hollows, on its side were filled 
up with tufts of trees, principally ash, tinted 
with the changing season. From those small 
wooded recesses, the blue curling smoke arose 
progressively, as the inhabitants of the hidden 
dwellings, trimmed their morning fires, and 
all animated nature appeared in action. A 
distance of six miles divides Hathersage and 
Castleton, and fairy-land lies between them. 
Hope Dale seems the sport of nature, or ra- 
ther the repose ; as if, tired of rearing rocks, 
raising mountains, and extending heaths, she 



HATHERSACK. 13 

spread out Hope Dale with all her sylvan 
graces, and drew the beautiful Derwent, the 
parent river of Derbyshire, through its soft 
domain, its amber waters flowing in ample 
breadth over its rocky pavement ; and one of 
the most lively pleasures of this little walking 
tour was, that we could follow its windings 
and lounge upon its banks, that frequently 
presented their various coloured strata washed 
bare by the winter torrents, and fringed with 
the alder, the ash, and the mountain-ash, 
rich in orange berries, whilst the foliage of 
its more delicate relation was a tender yellow. 
No where does the Derwent appear so at- 
tractive in its course as here, not even within 
its graceful, bankless expanse at Chats- 
\vorth, or in its rocky vista at Matlock, as 
when bordered by the green meadows, then 
bright in autumnal verdure, of smiling Hope 
Dale. Thus led on, Castleton in all its rocky 



14 HATHERSAGK. 

cavernous grandeur appeared, and the sylvan 
graces — Dryads, Hamadryads, and Naiads 
vanished, yet so entirely had their association 
banished fatigue, that after having given the 
usual orders at the Inn, we began to ascend 
the mountain whereon the castle stands : the 
castle of the Peverils; a name that once over- 
awed the dwellers of the Peak, with all the 
unrestrained power of feudal barbarism ; and 
which, excepting a court of law, that may yet 
retain something of the power to alarm those 
w T ithin its jurisdiction, is the only relic of him 
whom the Norman William invested with al- 
most regal sway in the heart of conquered 
Mercia. Fearing to look upwards, not daring 
to look below, we crept up the castle hill ; one 
side of which is a perpendicular rock, at the 
base of which is the yawning mouth of the 
celebrated cavern ; and upon the very brink 
of its summit, the decaying walls of the 



HATHERSAGE. 15 

castle. The opposite side of the mountain is 
equally steep, descending into a deep and 
narrow valley, formed by a similar ascent^ 
wild, dark, and secluded, and separated from 
all human interest. The area of the castle 
occupies almost the whole space of the penin- 
sular scite, which is joined to the neighbour- 
ing hills on the east, by an isthmus, on its le- 
vel. A thousand feet beneath is Peak's-hole, 
with its hundred unknown caverns, unen- 
lightened by day, and unexplored by man — 
yet, in the pride of his might, he raises a few 
stones upon their stupendous roofs, and calls 
himself lord of the Peak. Nearly eight hun- 
dred years have witnessed their gradual de- 
cay, and the almost total oblivion of the bold 
Baron, by whom it was reared ; but a mighty 
mind has again raised the name of Peve- 
ril of the Peak, and proves how omnipotent 



16 HATHERSAGE. 

it is, that can thus call spirits from the depths 
of time, and that calling, they will come. 

The necessity of descending alone gave the 
courage to its attempt, yet the young moun- 
taineers of the place climb the steep sides, 
run up the broken steps of the castle, and 
hang over its decayed walls, apparently in- 
sensible of the dizzy depth below. 

Objects so well known as the cavern at 
Castleton, need not be spoken of. We had pe- 
netrated its furthest extent several times, and 
therefore only explored its capacious entrance. 
An elegant party was just descending the 
sloping rock at its extremity, and the ladies 
in their white dresses^ with handkerchiefs 
folded on their heads, and tapers in their 
hands, following each other through the 
rocky chasm, as in processional array, pre- 
sented an idea of cloistered nuns, whose rules 



HATHERSAGK. 1/ 

ordained them to descend from the cheerful 
light of day, to sepulchral penance. All that 
Castleton presents to the curious traveller, 
we had previously visited, but the ascent of 
the Winnets was one of the objects of our 
walk. Winnets is the provincial name, that 
is written Wind-yards : whether from the 
sinuous way, or that it is the opening by 
which the western blasts rush down with 
tempestuous force, is undecided. Its charac-' 
teristics are very distinct from those of Mid- 
dleton Dale, though both are winding rocky 
ways. The road in Middleton Dale is broad 
and firm, and the descent almost impercep- 
tible 3 from its level the grey rocks rise 
boldly to their summit, which terminate in 
massy ramparts, upon which the ash waves 
its beautiful foliage, and upon whose ledges 
the golden stone-crop and the crimson ra- 
nunculus unite their roots and blossoms. A 
c 



18 HATHERSAGE. 

clear stream of water takes its course at the 
foot of the rocks, sparkling and bubbling on 
one side of the road; and the windings of the 
Dale is so gradual, as to present a beautiful 
changing vista through the whole course of 
two miles, from its entrance to its close. 
Very different was the aspect of the via 
terrorium we were entering, after having 
walked half a mile of level road from Cas- 
tleton, Mam Torr directly in our front, and 
forming one side of the Winnets. The path- 
way is not broader than will admit two car- 
riages to pass, and is inclosed by lofty moun- 
tains, the base of each seeming to cross each 
other, as if to interrupt the progress, broken 
by the peaked rocks of silver grey that start 
from their sides. Thus apparently obstructed, 
but still advancing, we wound along ; every 
dozen paces presenting a different appear- 
ance. No sky to be seen but that directly 



HATHKRSAGK. ]9 

above our heads, the zenith and boundary of 
our aerial view, and that was of the bluest 
blue. One moment there seemed to be no hu- 
man beings but our three selves, the next 
shewed us one of our own species, like the 
samphire gatherer of Dover cliffs, hanging 
in the middle air, collecting the moss with 
which the upper regions of mountains were 
covered ; two patient asses waiting at their 
base, for the verdant burden. A few steps 
forward, and they were again shut out. The 
pass terminated rn a wild and level country, 
over which we took one look, and retraced 
our steps down the Winnets. The difference 
of ascending and descending was strongly 
marked. The point of those rocks that almost 
rose above our sight as we went upwards, 
seemed on our return to lie beneath our 
feet. The last opening is superlatively fine ; 
two grand and pointed rocks forming its 
c 2 



20 HATH KRS AGE. 

side-skreens, and admitting the sudden, and 
bursting sight of Hope Dale, with far distant 
views, " where the purple mountains lie/' 
standing like the flaming swords of the sera- 
phims at the gates of Paradise, and turning 
every way as you approach them. An ele- 
gant work entitled, " Peak Scenery/' by Mr. 
Rhodes, of Sheffield, finely illustrated by the 
pencil of Chantry, contains a view of the en- 
trance to the Winnets, and represents these 
particular rocks with striking effect ; giving 
the very countenance of the country, along 
with their form and character. The declin- 
ing day softened into twilight as we entered 
the village of Hope, and we fulfilled the 
promise we had made to ourselves in the 
morning, of entering its church on our return. 
Hope church stands on a gentle rise in the 
centre of the village, shaded by old trees, a 
few dark sycamores, and a grove of ash. 



HATHERSAGE., 21 

Sweetly soothing was the shadowy pile at the 
soft hour of twilight ! The solemn stillness 
was only interrupted by the sighing of the 
evening breeze amidst the surrounding foli- 
age. After entering the middle aisle I found 
myself deserted by my companions, and in a 
few seconds, the sweet tones of the organ 
disclosed their retreat. Never was Handel 
more effective. Like the imaginary music of 
the spheres, it was invisible and heavenly ; it 
pervaded the comparative empty space of the 
sacred edifice, and its soft closes united with 
the gentle bushings of the wind amongst the 
trees. But the time pressed, and the enchant- 
ment must be broken ; we reached Hather- 
sage in due time, and Poppy and Mandragora 
never produced such balmy rest as the gentle 
toil, and pleasing labour we had enjoyed, 
shed over our night's repose. 

The following day was destined to the vici- 
c 3 



22 HATHERSAGE. 

nity of Hathersage ; we rambled in its village 
street, and loitered in its elevated church- 
yard ; made acquaintance with its children, 
and talked with its peasantry. Extending 
our walk beyond the precincts of the village, 
and passing through two or three enclosures, 
the sudden turning of a projecting bank pre- 
sented one of the loveliest scenes that was 
ever beheld. At the top of a fine circular 
meadow of the brightest green stood a low 
white house, white as the blanched snow, 
the meadow skirted by a gravelled path, that 
formed a sweeping terrace-walk above the 
banks of a trout-stream, that murmured as it 
flowed beneath the alders ; the back of the 
house was sheltered and shaded, and graced 
by a small hanging wood, a little beyond an 
Alpine bridge was thrown over a small cas- 
cade, that poured its sparkling waters into the 
stream below ; high above this cascade, this 



HATHERSAGE. 23 

wood, and this house, the mountains covered 
with brush- wood were rounded to the skies. 
On their opposite side bold rocks arose in 
savage grandeur, high as Derbyshire rocks 
could rear, taking a circular sweep that 
joined the rounder mountains, and enclosed 
at their feet, Brookfield. Hathersage, I have 
said, reposed in the bosom of the mountains ; 
Brookfield, in their heart of hearts. One 
other habitation alone was to be seen in the 
ample area they enclosed, and that was a 
most- singular building, standing upon an 
ascent at the foot of the rocks. Half an hour's 
walk brought us in approximation with its 
lofty tower, that w r as a perfect parallelo- 
gram, its roof and chimnies concealed by an 
embattled wall that rose above them. It 
stood amidst two or three pastures ; hence its 
name of North Lees, and an orchard, dark 
with old fruit trees; so old it might have been 
c 4 



24 HATHERSAGK. 

thought "they never had been young." There 
was a gloomy solitude around, the very re- 
verse of Brookfield, and we concluded the 
place to be uninhabited; but as we were re- 
treating, a man appeared at the door, which 
he locked, and was departing by a different 
direction. When he observed us, there was a 
civility in his countenance that encouraged 
us to express our wishes to view T the interior 
of the building, which he readily complied 
with ; assuring us, as he unlocked the en- 
trance, Ci it was well worth our curiosity." 
The house, or tower, or hall, the latter of 
which it was called, contained four apart- 
ments only, the whole of the ground plot 
being taken up by the first, and the others 
rising one over the other to the roof, the 
ascent to which was by a stair way of bare 
stone walls, the steps of solid blocks of oak 
winding round a stone pillar, and which was 



HATHKRSAGK. 25 

appended to the square building. The lower 
room had been the principal apartment. A 
redundancy of ancient plaister-work adorned 
its ceiling, and formed Latin sentences over 
its large and numerous windows, that occu- 
pied every side but that of the capacious fire- 
place ; appearing to have been one of those 
dwellings which Lord Bacon observed had 
no refuge from the sun; but this cause of com- 
plaint no longer existed, for all the windows 
were darkened but one. The view from the 
level roof was very striking, diminishing by 
its height every object below to fairy little- 
ness. Our civil and assiduous guide ap- 
peared versed in legendary lore, and justified 
what I had frequently observed — the intellec- 
tual acquirements of the Derbyshire rustics. 
" Yonder little ruin that you see to the left/* 
said he, "just below, almost hid by the ash- 
trees, was a Romish chapel dedicated to the 



20 HATHERSAGE. 

Holy Trinity ; and that snug white house 
further down is Brookfield, where, many 
years since, the vicar of Hathersage lived ; a 
man that had no more guile in him than a new 
fallen lamb." He then pointed out as objects 
of great interest three different-sized out 
lines of the human foot deeply indented in 
the lead roof; " They were made " said he, 
" by a gentleman who came here annually 
for several years, and brought his two young 
sons with him ; he told me he was the nearest 
relation to those that built the house, though 
he did not heir it. The last time he came, he 
said, perhaps his sons would never see it 
again, for they were going to the East-Indies. 
Somehow or other I always feel sorry when I 
think of them, though I never knew their 
names/' As we descended, every separate 
stair presenting a crevice through which the 
depths beneath appeared, he added, « But I 



HATHERSAGE. 2/ 

must get you to turn into the room below 
again ; there is one thing I forgot to shew 
you. You seem to be taken with this place, 
and to know something about the country ; 
did you ever hear of a Mr. Cunningham, a 
clergyman ? He used to come here often, and 
he made one remark upon the ceiling that 
nobody else ever did/' We re-entered the 
room, and he pointed out, amidst the dila- 
pidated plaister-work, a repetition of what 
the early pupils in writing would call " three 
strait strokes," alternately placed along 
with a circle ; observing that " Mr. Cunning- 
ham explained it as referring to the Trinity, 
the mighty Three in One, which, like the 
circle, was without beginning and without 
end, and to whom the domestic chapel was 
dedicated. He used," continued he, " to 
take great delight in this old place, and to 
bring his books, and make his verses here." 



28 HATHERSAGE. 

u And pretty verses they were/' I said, using 
the medwise word, more to suit the idea of 
my auditor's comprehension, than my own 
appreciation. " Pretty !" retorted he, with 
somewhat of a reproachful accent, "they were 
lofty ;" and to my surprise repeated some 
lines from an ode to Lord Rodney, and spoke 
with admiration of another to Chatsworth ; 
yet the appearance of the man was nothing 
more than that of a rustic, his wife and 
children were in the harvest-field to which 
he was bound ; yet, with genuine good man- 
ners, never appearing to feel that we were 
encroaching on the sunshine of his day, he 
spoke in the strongly marked provincialism 
of his country, and it was the matter, more 
than the manner, by which he was distin- 
guished. We had intruded into his house, 
and taken up his time, and we felt an ac- 
knowledgment was due. He did not appear to 



MATHERS AGE. 29 

think the same, for, on our indication to make 
some remuneration, he said, " Surely a man 
might show a little common civility without 
looking to be paid/' and hastily wished us 
" good day/' I have disavowed egotism, 
but the feelings this morning excited were 

4 

imperative, Brookfield, when its master 
was the guileless pastor alluded to, was the 
occasional home of my earliest childhood, well 
remembered with all the tenacity of a child's 
memory. North Lees Hall was then the 
scene where every sprite, or fairy, or spectre 
that rose from the dead, if they appeared at 
all, were to be seen ; and Mr. Cunningham 
had been the friend of my youth, to whose 
elegant muse, and enlightened conversation 
I had often been the delighted auditor ; and 
the whole scene was sanctified by the remem- 
brance of the dead, and the tender recollec- 
tion of departed pleasures. On our return, 



30 HATHKRSAGE. 

we passed the house and chapel of the Catho- 
tholic Priest ; the latter denoted by a large 
cross of Derbyshire marble, built up in its 
gable wall. A gravel walk led to the house, 
and a parterre on each side was full of all 
the autumnal flowers in gorgeous colourings, 
a fine hedge of lavender dividing it from an 
adjoining field ; a venerable figure was stand - 
ing within its inclosure, with a large open 
book in his hand ; he was bare-headed, and 
was wrapped in a long brown vest ; and as 
we looked upon his flowers, advanced to 
meet us, invited us within the gates, desired 
us to gather his flowers, shewed us the inte- 
rior of his chapel and his garden, the reser- 
voir of water he had made there for the pre- 
servation of fish, and the large stone basin 
into which its superfluity was conducted, and 
from whence he permitted the good women of 
the village to fill their tea-kettles, " because," 



HATHERSAGK. 31 

he said : " there is no water else that makes 
such good tea, besides its being more whole- 
some/' Not any benediction the good man 
might have bestowed upon the hallowed ele- 
ment in his chapel, could have rendered it 
more " holy" in my estimation than did this 
benevolent dispensation. From the garden he 
took us into his house, where we found a neat 
little refreshment, to which he so gaily 
pressed, and smiled, that we unhesitatingly 
accepted his truly hospitable fare. It was 
well he did not try to persuade us to become 
good Catholics, for his manners and address 
were irresistible. Many vestiges of the an- 
cient religion appear at Hathersage. The 
little ruined chapel at North Lees ; another 
that is seen to the right, on the road to Hope, 
in the opening of the hills ; the one we had 
recently visited, and the added memorials of 
an ancient and highly respectable Roman 



32 HATHERSAGfc. 

Catholic family in the chancel of the church, 
who had once possessed great property 
around Hathersage, bespoke its prevalence 
there, even long after the Reformation. Our 
return gave a different appearance to the 
same objects. We ascended the steep hill of 
three miles measurement from Hathersage, 
and regained the high level of the Moors, 
when, in the shades of evening, their unvaried 
surface spread far away on every side, and 
uniting with the grey horizon, presented a 
scene like that of a tranquil sea, its waving 
billows sunk to rest, and the curtains of the 
sky drawn around its soft repose. 



( 33 ) 



MONSAL DALE. 



To those who know it not, no words can paint, 
And those who know it, know all words are faint. 



Every visitor to Derbyshire has seen Mon- 
sal Dale : they all make it the rallying point 
of their admiration, and dwell with delighted 
recollection upon the sweet surprise its sud- 
den appearance occasioned, as they were pass- 
ing the high level between Ashford-in-the 
Water and Wardlow ; from whence it ap- 
pears to lie far below them, and the concerns 
of this world— presenting one of its own, 
combined of all the loveliest attributes of na- 
ture. The Wye seems to have changed its 
D 



34 MONSAL DALE. 

characteristics under the influence of this 
sylvan vale, and no longer foams over a 
rocky channel, or forces its way through nar- 
row defiles, but expands its glossy surface to the 
smooth banks of the beautiful meadow-land, 
that divide it from the base of the mountain. 
Two or three rustic dwellings, in perfect har- 
mony with the scene, diversify the level of 
the valley ; they are shaded by the finest Ash 
trees that grow in Derbyshire, whilst their 
descendants grace the rising hills in little 
groups, or single trees, and throw their sha- 
dows on the bright green turf from whence 
they spring; the mountains rising above them, 
from which the rocks start in light pinnacles, 
or rounded turrets; the shining Ivy, at all sea- 
sons of the year, decking their silver sides 
with its ever-green beauty. The river, after 
having spread itself in beautiful expanse, 
winds eastward out of the Dale, its termina- 



MONSAL DALE. 35 

tion hid by the projecting headland. Across 
the broadest part of the river, the very sort 
of bridge that unites with the features of the 
scene communicates with the opposite bank ; 
large blocks of native marble, tagged together 
by their own inequalities, through the aper- 
tures of which the water glides, their surface 
blanched by the sun, and polished by the fre- 
quent overflow of the rapid stream; their little 
hollows and interstices covered with moss of 
the greenest hue, and the impetuous Wye, 
even there, in its chosen repose, fretting and 
bubbling around them, as if to resent its in- 
terruption. In the provincialism of the coun- 
try, these stones are called lepping (leaping) 
stones, thirty-two of which form this rustic 
bridge. The sweet solitude of this valley, 
this Derbyshire Tempe, has no gloomy ab- 
straction. A fine road leads down the side of 
the mountain, and continues along the Dale, 
d 2 



36 MONSAL DALE. 

meeting the course of the river ; few would 
choose to descend its steep declivity in a Car- 
riage, but no one would regret alighting, to 
walk with such objects around. The most 
seducing quietness pervades the soft domain ; 
the water steals along so gently, that scarce 
a murmur meets the ear ; the birds select it 
for their early nests; the lambs sport upon its 
narrow sheltered meadows ; in its bright wa- 
ters the heavy fleeces of their dams are wash- 
ed, and upon the banks, one who loves the 
calm and quiet recreation, that in which old 
Isaac Walton most delighted, may there be 
seen in solitary enjoyment. I cannot imagine 
that any stranger, who first surveys the pasto- 
ral beauty of Monsal Dale from the heights 
above its deep yet smiling seclusion, but 
feels a passing thought, if not a wish, to be- 
come its resident ; for there the fury passions 
of mankind, u the vultures of the mind," sink 



MONSAL DALE. 37 

to rest, and the all gentler ones are soothed to 
balmy happiness; there it would seem that 
Hatred should cease its malignity, and Pride 
its folly, and Ambition its aspirations ; feeling 
that all it had hitherto considered great was, 
when compared with the majesty of nature 
and the soft joys of rural repose, but little ; 
whilst Love would erect its temple in Mon-sal 
Dale, and Contemplation think down hours 
to minutes, and mark them all for wisdom. 

After descending the long circuitous hill, 
in which is the quarry of black marble, 
wrought and polished at Ashford, and pass- 
ing beneath the shadowy trees, that form a 
second roof to the few cottages, the Dale 
narrows, the water is contracted between 
deeper banks^ the hills draw closer together, 
and Monsal Dale verges upon, and terminates 
in Cresbrook Dale, the clear mountain stream 
stealing over the soft bed of verdure from 
d 3 



38 MONSAL DALE. 

which it takes its name, to join the Wye. The 
whole scene becomes more wild, the bases of 
the mountains are composed of loose shingles, 
but amongst which, long branches, that bear a 
single white rose of peculiar beauty, intersect 
themselves, and embroider their stony bed. 
The Jack-daws wheel around the rocks, and 
the Ravens build their nests amongst them, 

A lofty promontory divides the course of 
the two streams ; at their junction stands a 
Cotton mill ! But as Monsal Dale remains 
sacred, we will not quarrel with Cresbrook 
Mill. The building is large and handsome in 
all its parts ; and I have seen it under cir- 
cumstances when imagination might be en- 
listed under the banners of science, for 
science is a concomitant of Cresbrook. When 
darkness pervades the Dale, and the innu- 
merable large windows are lighted up, not 
even the outline of the buildings to be traced 



MONSAL DALE. 39 

against the dark mountains, it might be 
thought to be an illumined palace raised by the 
power of magic \ whilst the abruptness of its 
appearance on the first entrance to the Dale, 
and the sudden glimpses caught through the 
openings of the Hills, would lead to the ex- 
pectation that its existence was as transitory 
as its appearance. 

Two or three hundred children are em- 
ployed at Cresbrook, and reside in the spa- 
cious buildings adjoining. The first feeling 
this consciousness awakens is compassion, 
that so many human beings, at that tender 
age when all the fond affections are first 
implanted, should be separated from their 
natural connexions, and thrown upon stran- 
gers, to whom they can have no other claim, 
or who feel no other tie towards them, than 
that of interest; but an acquaintance with 
this large, and well-organized family, will 
d 4 



40 MONSAL DALE, 

soften those feelings, and rectify their erro- 
neous conclusions. 

No picture can be more sweet than the do= 
mestic enjoyments of a happy home \ a peace- 
ful hearth surrounded by affectionate pa- 
rents, and dutiful children, supported by vir^- 
tuous industry $ but whilst human nature is 
what we know it to be, and evil permitted 
to exist on earth, the consequences of vice 
deface this beautiful picture, and paint its 
own horrid features on the canvass. Children 
abandoned by the profligacy of their parents, 
unfortunate orphans, " born to misery and 
baptized in tears/' heirs to all the melancholy 
train of guilt that sin has brought into the 
world, are thrown upon their country ; but 
from utter destruction they are in some mea- 
sure redeemed by its charitable institutions, 
and judicious regulations ; by the latter these 
children are relieved, not only with food and 



MONSAL DALti. 41 

raiment, but with all the comforts and decen- 
cies of humanity ; and if the good seed sown 
in their minds happily takes root, a merciful 
God may, and we trust will, withhold the 
malediction of visiting upon the children the 
sins of their fathers. At Cresbrook-mill con- 
stant and regular industry is enforced, but no 
unnatural labour. Their hours of work and 
necessary relaxation are Kindly and judiciously 
arranged; the former never exceeding what 
ought to be exacted from those in their station 
of life and of their tender age ; their food is of 
the best quality, and amply dispensed ; they 
have eight hours uninterrupted sleep, incon- 
fortable beds and airy rooms ; the utmost de- 
corum is maintained between the boys and 
girls ; but if a brother and sister be amongst 
the number, the affectionate relationship is 
kindly encouraged; the relatives of the chil- 
dren are allowed to come to the House, where 



42 MON'SAL DALE. 

they are hospitably entertained, and permit- 
ted to remain a suitable time, according to 
their own behaviour, and the distance from 
whence they came ; personal cleanliness is 
inculcated and enforced with the most scru- 
pulous attention. On particular Festivals, 
and in fine weather, the children attend Tides- 
well Church, the distance of three miles; but 
in Winter they have a Sunday-school, and 
the service of the Church of England read to 
them, in one of their large rooms ; the boys 
and girls having each separate apartments, — 
such are their duties. I must now speak of 
their pleasures, for pleasures they have, varied 
and suited to their age, situation, and capacity. 
Little gardens, twelve feet square and eight 
wide, bordered with the silver-edged thyme, 
and crowded with pinks, wall-flowers, and 
sweet-williams, cover the banks of the Wye 
around the mill ; which, though the winter 



MONSAL DALE. 43 

torrents frequently inundate, the spirit of 
voluntary industry and early enterprize, is 
thereby awakened to restore. Side by side, 
these little flowery plots remind the spectator 
of the Church-yards in North Wales, where 
the rural graves are so formed and so deco- 
rated. The girls sit upon the banks, work- 
ing at will with their needles, or wander 
within their boundaries in the dale ; and as 
they only wear bonnets at church, they gather 
the large water-dock leaf, that, supported by 
its long stem, forms a verdant parasol, shad- 
ing many a pleasant, youthful, and happy face, 
and presenting a picture, novel as it is pleasing. 
But their highest species of enjoyment, the 
highest that man can enjoy, is music ; this 
delightfully intellectual source of pleasure 
is improved, encouraged, and scientifically 
taught at Cresbrook. Every boy that has a 



44 MONSAL DALE. 

voice, an ear, or a finger capable of partici- 
pating in the Heavenly science, receives ele- 
mentary, and practical instruction ; and amidst 
the cotton-spinners of Cresbrook, the outcasts 
from parental care, the orphans of humanity, 
the hallelujahs of Handel fill the valley, and 
I trust rise with acceptable melody to Heaven. 
There is also a tenderness of feeling displayed 
in its arrangement, not to be passed over ; a 
gallery has been appropriated as an Orches- 
tra, so that the liberty of the younger children 
might not be invaded by the restraint that 
must have been necessarily imposed, or the 
study and practice of the young musicians 
interrupted by the gambols of their com- 
panions. The girls do not learn music, for 
reasons highly creditable to the judgment and 
decorum that accompany the whole system, 
that of keeping the boys and girls separate ; 



MONSAL DALE. 45 

but their room being above that of the boys, 
the sweet sounds ascend, and they participate 
in the harmony. I can scarcely imagine any- 
thing more striking than what must have 
occurred, and what may often re-occur to a 
benighted traveller, crossing the wild way 
from Tideswell, that overhangs the deep and 
rocky channel of the Wye, as he descends 
into this apparently lone vale, to have the 
dark silence interrupted by a chorus of sweet 
and youthful voices, in all the harmony of 
scientific precision, accompanied by the rich 
notes of the viol, breaking upon his ear in 
the words of " Lord, dismiss us with thy bles- 
sing," the hymn that closes the musical ex- 
ercises of the young choristers. The whole 
economy of the mill is arranged and directed 
by the Mr. Newtons 5 and this fine establish- 
ment, this glory of a commercial nation, has 



46 MONSAL DALE. 

been consummated in the space of twelve 
years \ preceding which time I remember the 
original house, around which all the appended 
buildings have sprung, and which is yet the 
habitation of Mr. Newton, " a lone and lowly 
dwelling 'mid the hills, by a grey mountain 
stream/' The Penates of the household are Mrs. 
and Miss Newton, with a most active coadjutor, 
to whom exertion, order, and subordination, 
are familiar, having accompanied her hus- 
band through the whole of the Peninsula war, 
and who, like every other great commander, 
rules with a steady, firm, but gentle rein. 
Amidst the domestic deities of the place, 
there is one whom it would be sacrilege to 
omit — the sister of Mrs.Newton, Aunt Nancy; 
aunt to every individual, who either resides 
in or visits at Cresbrook, if Aunt means one 
who, without actually being a mother, pos- 



MONSAL DALE. 47 

sesses all the endearing attributes, and per- 
forms all the duties of one ; who passes all 
the day, and day after day, in providing for, 
and anticipating the wants of others ; who is 
all kindness, compassion, gentleness ; who 
though, like the Speaker at St. Stephen's 
Chapel, may not call to order, yet is the ge- 
neral moderator. Such is the Aunt Nancy 
of Cresbrook. Several erections have been 
added at different times to the first esta- 
blishment : the last advances close to the 
edge of the water, where a fine lake is 
formed amidst the circular rocks, a little 
above the Mill. This building is a well- 
imagined gothic ; the curtain that divides 
the two towers is the music gallery, to which 
a flight of steps ascend from the boys' eating- 
room. A few years will render this building 
more impressive; its peculiar situation giving 



48 MONSAL DALE. 

to it those tints, and clothing it with that mU 
mite vegetation, that will soften its present 
obtrusive freshness. It contains the sleeping- 
rooms of the children over their eating-rooms, 
that a long gallery divides on each story. At 
its extremity is a gothic window. Burke 
defines sublimity to consist in height and 
length — which these galleries possess, with 
just that softened degree of light, that 
one window is formed to dispense. 
Though the same effect may not alto- 
gether be produced upon the minds of 
its peculiar inmates ; though they cannot 
compare its soft suffusion with the dim reli- 
gious light of monastic cloisters, or the long 
withdrawing aisles of the lofty cathedral ; yet 
even they will not be wholly insensible to 
external order and beauty, and will become, 
imperceptible to the cause, humanized under 



M ON SAL DALE. 49 

the effect of their pervading influence. As I 
have ever considered persons pre-eminent to 
places, and the features of the human mind 
of grander interest than the features of in- 
animate nature, however grand they may be, 
I make no apology for peopling Cresbrook 
Dale with its actual inhabitants ; for adding 
an existing figure even to the scanty 
boundaries of a vignette. The contempla- 
tion of such an establishment is most honour- 
able to those who are its proprietors, and 
to those who preside over its prosperity and 
its comforts \ whilst it may confirm the belief 
that all cotton mills are not the scenes of 
unnatural labour or harsh severity. Mr. 
Newton is already known through the me- 
dium of Miss Seward, as "The Minstrel of 
the Peak," and, in the present times, by 
Rank and Talents Cresbrook is not Un- 
known. He, who is the pride of Derby* 



50 MONSAL DALE. 

shire, with that graciousness so peculiar to 
himself, has deigned to visit, and approve the 
establishment there ; and the son of its soil, 
the Canova of England, has left a memorial 
of his pencil beneath its lowly roof, that will 
perpetuate the mild countenance and features 
of Mr. Newton as long as it is preserved, 
not less valued as a testimony of respect, 
than cherished as a faithful and spirited 
resemblance. 



( 51 ) 



WARDLOW MEEES. 



" Harden ye may, but never humanize" 

W. Newton. 



Emerging from Middleton Dale, whose 
winding defile had excluded all objects but 
the sky overhead, and the rock-crowned 
mountains on each side, whose broad bases 
extending athwart the vale appeared to cross 
its way, and impede the progress, a fine ex- 
panse of country is presented, from whence 
the pure breath of heaven comes fresh as the 
ocean gale ; the heathy moorland stretched 
far and wide around, and bounded in the dis- 
tance by blue and misty mountains. To the 
left the turfy hill ascends gradually to that 
b 2 



52 WARD LOW MKERS. 

unbroken line above, called Longstone Edge, 
that intervenes between Longstone and Has- 
sop, stretching its upland line to the little 
alpine village of Wardlow, where house ris- 
ing over house, interspersed with fine old 
trees, skirts on each side the highway to 
Bakewell; leaving to the right the loftier 
mountain of Wardlow Heys, that towers above 
the ainphitheatrical village, the steep sides 
of which, neither tree, or house, or human 
being diversifies. The opposite hills, on the 
right of the Dale Head, shelters at their 
base the little towns of Hucklow, Foolow, and 
Eyam, softened and adorned by those beau- 
tiful ash trees, that seem to enjoy their own 
beauty and existence in Derbyshire. Upon 
their level, but more advanced towards the 
highway, stood the house of Captain Carleil ; 
a modest mansion, such as was inhabited by 
the gentry of England in the sixteenth cen- 



WARD LOW MEERS. 53 

tiuy. Exposed as its situation appeared, yet 
all the warm comforts were found within : 
its accommodations were like the characters 
of its owners — substantial, unpretending, and 
uniform. At Broster Field, the friend, the 
visitor, and the wanderer found affection, 
hospitality, and relief. A few fine old trees 
shaded its low white front, but the handsome 
offices adjoining, and the neatness by which the 
House and lawn were distinguished, evinced 
the station and habits of life of its very gen- 
teel and most respectable inhabitants. The 
aerial ridge above, strongly marked upon the 
clear boundary by the tall cupola chimney 
of a smelting mill, whose light pinnacles are 
frequently so picturesque in Derbyshire, was 
the only object that broke the horizontal line 
that extended to the far off distance, terminated 
by Mam Tor, the mother of mountains, dimly 
seen except when the morning sun enlightens 
e 3 



54 WARD LOW MEERS. 

its bold arid slaty front — such were the bar- 
riers of the open plain we entered upon ; 
an excellent carriage road- descending almost 
imperceptibly a mile in extent, leading to 
Wardlow toll bar-house, and one other 
adjoining ; their whitened walls cheering 
the sombre brown and green by which they 
were surrounded, and reposing, at the foot 
of the steep hill, upon the ascent of which 
the village of Wardlow commences. The 
toll-bar seeming to unite these u two or 
three " inhabitants with the distant world. 
The rapid Mail-coach, the creeping Waggon, 
and the rattling Post-boy leaving their ac- 
counts of the more busy scenes through 
which they pass, for the wonder or condemna- 
tion of their humble inmates. From this 
point the firm high road in front ascends 
two miles toward Tideswell ; but a deep val- 
ley opens immediately on the left of the 



WARDLOW MEKRS. 55 

Bar, and winds its narrow way between the 
hills, marked by a rivulet of the purest 
water, that falls into Cresbrook at its ter- 
mination. At the entrance of the valley, 
before its opening recedes between the hills, 
stands a rock of singular form and appear- 
ance ; its base completely insulated and 
severed from any surrounding object ; it is 
of considerable height and circumference, 
and rises perpendicularly on all sides; its 
top is level and covered with verdure, from 
the centre of which a second rock arises, 
with a circular base considerably less, that 
terminates in a lofty dome : the whole ap- 
pearing in the distance like a Church in a 
wilderness, which, if unenclosed by higher 
objects, would seem of far greater height and 
magnitude ; but what is lost in individual 
grandeur, is gained in local solemnity ; the 
hills appear to recede fo^ its sanctuary and 
e 4 



56 WARDLOW MEERS. 

to aspire for its gaurd ; the sun shines not 
on its dark grey sides ; no trees wave their 
boughs around ; the wild herbage on its 
lower summit is never cropt by beast, or 
trodden by man ; but in solitary majesty it 
seems to say, " I am, and there is none be- 
side me !" This object, so striking in ef- 
fect, united with the surrounding scenery, 
was the prospect from Broster Field, the 
house of Captain Carleill, situated a little 
above Wardlovv Myers, the abode of old 
English hospitality in all its genuine grace 
and virtue. Were it possible not to regret the 
extinction of such an abode, and that of its 
most amiable inhabitants, it would be when 
we look upon the local change that has 
arisen, where it seems as though the genius 
of horror and desolation had marked the 
once happy domain, and its admired prospect 
ivith the most awful ravages. The house of 



WAIIDLOVV MEfiRS. 57 

Captain Carleill is levelled with the turf, 
and the valley of the rock is stained by 
the most frightful recollections : crime has 
breathed a darkened horror upon its guilt- 
less surface, and banished contemplation 
from its peaceful haunts. Never could the 
infamy of that crime have been obliterated, 
though its abhorred memorial had not 
existed — a memorial that wounds the in- 
nocent alone (the guilty feel it not) j that 
offends the eye of man, and "defiles" the 
works of God. From amidst clouds and 
thick darkness the Almighty gave his canon 
against murder ; and he also said, through 
his servant Moses, " And if u man has com- 
mitted a trespass worthy of death, and he be 
to be put to death, and thou hang him on a 
tree, his body shall not remain all night on the 
tree, but thou shalt in any wise bury him 
that day, that thy land be not defiled, which 



58 WARDLOW MEERS. 

the Lord thy God hath given thee for an in- 
heritance/' — Deut. xxi. verse 22, 23. 

In defiance of the express word of God, 
and in outrage of the best feelings of man, 
that tree yet stands in all its vengeance 
amidst the scenery I have attempted to de- 
scribe. Would that the blast of the desert 
might lay it low ! or the flash of the thunder 
cloud level it with the dust, beneath which 
the remains of the wicked, as of the weary, 
are ordained to rest 



( 59 ) 



TIDESWELL CHURCH. 



The church of Tideswell is a solitary 
proof that the now dilapidated and deserted 
place was once preeminent in the county 
of Derby, and an existing monument of that 
style of architecture of which it is so beauti- 
ful, and so noble a specimen. That Tideswell 
was held in parochial estimation at a very 
early period of our history, there is more 
than presumptive evidence ; through the in- 
fluence and example of Ethelflida, daughter 
of Alfred, Christianity gained more prose- 
lytes in Mercia than in any other kingdom of 
the Heptarchy ; consequently a situation like 
that of Tideswell, which can scarcely be ex- 



60 TIDESWELL CHURCH. 

ceeded by any other in the Peak of Derby, 
would be selected for the building of its 
temples, and the residence of its converts. 
On the first propagation of the Christian 
religion by Saint Augustin, crosses were 
erected upon those places where he assem- 
bled its votaries, until churches could be 
built, or the ancient temples of the Saxons 
converted to their holy service. Upon the 
summit of a hill, immediately above Tides- 
well, that has been called from time im- 
memorial Summer Cross, a stone of the 
rudest -workmanship is bedded, and almost 
hidden in the earth : it has a deep socket 
that appears to have been formed for the 
insertion of an upright shaft or pillar. A 
situation so elevated might have been chosen 
for the opportunity of making signals to 
those who were assembling. In a country 
so bleak, the people could only be expected 



TIDESWELL CHURCH. 61 

to attend in the summer season ; when the sky 
was the roof of their Temple, and the Cross 
the Altar of their sanctuary : hence I have 
presumed upon the hypothetical designation 
of Summer Cross. The shelter of the plea- 
sant valley below, with the chrystal springs 
by which it is refreshed, w r ould naturally 
lead the devotees of the new religion to 
establish themselves in so pleasant an heri- 
tage, within the vicinity of the hallowed 
symbol of their newiy adopted faith. About 
the middle of the seventh century Lichfield 
Cathedral was founded, and was the mother 
church of all others within her diocese or pa- 
rochia ; the few parish churches then existing 
w T ere but considered as chapels of ease to 
that more stately temple, probably built of 
wood, or the rudest materials, as all the early 
Saxon churches were. During the reigns of 
Alfred and his successors, religion and the 



62 TIDESWELL CHURCH. 

arts were progressively improving; but some- 
time before the close of the Saxon dynasty, 
William of Malmsbury observes, u that the 
people had fallen from the virtue, religion, 
and learning of the more immediate an- 
cestors of their great Alfred; that their moral 
characters were very much reduced; their 
mode of living was become indolent, but 
luxurious, and their habitations mean." The 
Normans were the very reverse — abstemious 
and delicate in their diet, and orderly in 
their habits, but ostentatious in their dress 
and houses, their public and private build- 
ings; they endeavoured to restore religion 
to its former dignity, built churches and 
monasteries in the most sumptuous manner, 
and in some measure repaired to the Saxons 
the appropriation of their lands, by improv- 
ing and adorning the country they had in- 
vaded. Henry the Second was the first of 



TIDESWELL CHURCH. 63 

the Norman line, who united beauty and 
elegance with the cumbrous magnitude of 
Saxon and Norman architecture : but it was 
in the thirteenth century that its high repu- 
tation was established, gradually arising to 
that ultimate perfection presented in the 
beautiful chapel of the Seventh Henry at 
Westminster ; the heavy round arch yielding 
to the graceful lancet shape, the massy un- 
broken pillar to the slender shafts, that like 
clustered reeds are bound together by the 
most delicate foliage, and the large Eastern 
windows diversified by the ramifications of 
stone tracery in all its variety; whilst niches, 
and canopies, and crockets without, and 
skreens and pendants within, completed the 
exquisite early English architecture of that 
period. At the commencement of the four- 
teenth century I should believe Tideswell 
Church to have been built : probably, from 



64 TIDKSWELL CHURCH. 

its yet existing evidences, collegiate to its dio- 
cesan Lichfield; it is dedicated to St. John; 
and its annual festival is that of its patrony- 
mic saint. It has a fine western Tower, 
surmounted by four octangular turrets, ter- 
minating in light spires, and intersected by 
crockets. A deep porch on the south con- 
tains a winding stair up a round tower, that 
leads to the upper battlements ; the but- 
tresses are enriched with niches surmounted 
by their canopies and crockets; and over 
the fine East window the sacred symbol of 
Christianity yet maintains its station. The 
Chancel is evidently of later date, and that it 
should be so was no unusual circumstance ; 
the magnificent designs of the proud Nor- 
mans frequently exceeded either their imme- 
diate supplies, or even the life time of their 
founders ; thus they began at the east end of 
the Choir, which, when completed, admitted 



TIDESWELL CHURCH. 65 

the performance of divine service, whilst the 
other parts, the Tower, the Lanthorn, and the 
chancel, were finished as their means and 
the time allowed : but it was the enthu- 
siasm of the people that greatly contributed 
to produce such structures : the religion they 
professed impressing the belief, that the very 
labour of the hand, for such a purpose, would 
ensure the saving of the soul. Every man 
was impelled by the spirit of the crusades, 
where religion was concerned 5 though his 
station or occupation was in no wise con- 
nected with its ivarfare. 

At this period it may be concluded, that 
the inhabitants of Tideswell and its vicinity 
would, like their church, be of great local 
importance; for either their residing influence 
contributed to the erection of the Edifice, 
or its completion drew the opulent gentry 
around it, and contiguous places evidently 



GG T1DE.SWELL CHLilCH. 

derived their names from its proximity. 
Thus Litton was the little town adjoining 
the larger one, Weston, the town west of 
Tideswell. At the former place, a family of 
note, of the name of Litton, resided at their 
Hall as early as the reign of Henry the 
Third ; and Sir Robert Litton was under- 
treasurer of England under Henry the Sixth. 
Litton Hall was sold by Rowland Litton, 
Esq., 159/ ; their arms ermine, Or, a chief 
indented argent, three ducal coronets, Or, 
Crest a Bittern among reeds, Proper. Part 
of the old building remains, occupied by a 
cottager ; and houses of a much later date, 
bearing the marks of former gentility, are, 
with their owners, fallen into absolute de- 
cay. The little town is pleasantly situated 
one mile above Tideswell, sheltered byhigher 
ground, but is deficient in the blessings of the 
valley ; those living waters that, from their 



TIDES WELL CHURCH. 6!j 

hundred hidden springs, flow down its pa- 
rent town. Weston is similarly situated, 
one mile from Tideswell, on the opposite 
side. Many fine old trees mark what a 
pleasant abiding place it must have been. 
An ancient cross, of more than common 
elegance of design, sanctifies Weston; it 
stands in a small enclosure below the man- 
sion-house, a commodious and handsome 
dwelling, apparently erected in the begin- 
ning of the seventeenth century; but no other 
vestige remains of its more early inhabitants. 
The interior of Tideswell church is of re- 
markable elegance and beauty, possessing a 
nave, with two side aisles, a north and south 
transept, and a spacious chancel, lighted by 
nine windows ; on each side is a row of stalls, 
in the form of those at York Minster ; a few 
remnants of carved work yet adhere to them ; 
f 2 



68 TIDKSWKLL CHURCH. 

a shelving seat within the stalls, called 
miseries, kept the monks and friars in a pos- 
ture between standing and sitting, and took 
their name from the uncomfortable and tan- 
talizing accommodation they supplied : the 
board was so contrived, that it could be made 
a firm horizontal seat when such an indul- 
gence was allowed. A curious stone Pulpit, 
on the north side of the nave, is an immove- 
able ^testimony of having been a part of the 
original structure ; but, as if in determination 
to degrade the beauty of the longitudinal 
view, a most impertinent gallery, of modern 
erection, is made to rest upon it. The slen- 
der piers and lofty arches, that in three-fold 
grace spring from them, are of exquisite pro- 
portion, unspoiled by galleries, rising in their 
primeval beauty from the lettered floor to 
the lofty roof. The tabernacle work, that is 
broken and strewed around in the neglected 



TIDKSWELL CHURCH. 69 

transepts, evince how richly the stalls, cha- 
pels, and skreens, were once ornamented. 
In a corner of the north transept is an an- 
cient font, of heptagonal form, its circular 
basin corroborating the early practice of the 
immersion of the whole body of an infant in 
baptism ; it is now regularly used by the 
workpeople to mix their colours in, when 
they beautify the church with blue and ma- 
hogany paint. The south transepts contain 
the vault of the Statham family, a loyal 
knight, who resided in Tidesweil in Eliza- 
beth's reign : their hatchments and armorial 
bearings appear in various devices around. 
The vault of the Beeches, of Shaw,, in 
Staffordshire,, natives of Tidesweil, the ac- 
cess to which is open. The coffin lid of the 
last who was there interred has a sliding 
board, beneath which, a plate of glass 
displays what would have appalled the 
f 3 



70 TIDESWELL CHURCH 

stoutest heart in Udolpho, the countenance 
of the poor remains within. In the extreme 
corner of the same transept, hid by the sides 
of a dilapidated pew, and covered with dust, 
cobwebs, and the splashings of the white- 
washer, are two recumbent figures, in ala- 
baster, whose names, as handed down by 
traditional evidence, are " Sir Thirlstone a 
Bower/' and his lady : though mutilated by 
ill-usage and neglect, their remains are 
worth the notice and preservation of the 
antiquary. The spurs indicate the knight- 
hood of the male figure, and the regalia the 
rank of the lady : for at that period degree 
and station was designated by dress. Mr. 
Dallaway observes, that " so essentially was 
honour constituted by armorial distinctions, 
that men of every rank under the sovereign 
esteemed the title of " scutifee, armiger or 
esquire," as previously necessary to all others 



T1DESWELL CHURCH. /I 

and the collar of S. 8., allusive to that name, 
as an ornament of " high dignity/' This dis- 
tinguishing collar is worn by Sir Thirlstone 
a Bower ; the period in which he lived may 
also be deduced from what follows : Mr. 
Dallaway adds, that " this degree of esti- 
mation was first instituted by Henry the 
Second, in 1159, and did not cease till the 
reign of the fourth Edward." The total 
neglect and utter disregard in which these 
figures now remain, affords a melancholy 
proof, how vain is the desire of mortality 
to extend itself beyond its natural existence, 
and how impotent its power to reverse the 
decrees of Him who has said that " Man shall 
go down to the dust, and be no more seen/' 
Sententious as this is, yet were I the vicar, 
churchwarden, or scutifee, if such a degree 
remains there, of Tideswell, I would place 
Sir Thirlstone a Bower and his lady in de- 
f 4 



7^ TIDKSWELL CHURCH. 

cent order in the Chancel, along with their 
contemporaries. Perhaps they were amongst 
the first benefactors of that church, which 
now, scantily filled as it is, scarcely allows 
their memorials a corner to rest in. "Thirl" 
is the Saxon word, to pierce, to force an 
aperture : this gallant knight might have 
forced the very stones of the rocky country 
into the service of religion, or domestic con- 
venience, and graced his residence by plant- 
ing the spreading ash around it : hence 
" Thirlstone of the Bower " Local names are 
frequently the only means by which events and 
circumstances can be even speculated upon. 
The monuments of Hugh Meveril and 
Bishop Purslove were magnificent in their 
day : both were benefactors to the town of 
Tideswell, they occupy the area of the chan- 
cel. Tideswell church possessed a noble 
organ, the large pipes of which were re- 



TIDESWELL CHURCH. 73 

moved to Lichfield ; and so lightly does the 
mother church regard this her beautiful off- 
spring, that report, I trust misrepresentation, 
has asserted it has been in contemplation to 
apply its valuable roof of lead to the funds 
of Lichfield Cathedral, and substitute one of 
slate in its place ; such an unmotherly act 
I cannot believe will be committed. Indif- 
ference and insensibility have suffered the 
decorations and designations of this fine edi- 
fice to fall into decay — a species of destruction 
fatal in its ultimate effects as the ravages of 
the Goths and Vandals \ the building of such 
churches was a matchless proof of high de- 
votion that is now waxed cold ; and their 
neglect of them is a reproach upon pos- 
terity, that ought most sacredly to be avoided. 
Forsyth says, in his views of Rome, 
" The Catholic religion is a friend, though 
an interested one, to the fine arts ; it rejects 



74 TIDESWELL CHURCH. 

nothing that is old or beautiful ; had ancient 
Rome fallen into the hands of gloomy Pres- 
byterians, we should now look in vain for 
the more sacred parts of its ruins j their 
inoclast zeal would have confounded beauty 
with idolatry, for the pleasure of demolish- 
ing both ; they would have destroyed the 
temple and preached in a barn — the Catho- 
lics let the temple stand, and gloried in its 
conversion to Christianity." 

On the south side of the church-yard, 
under the high cliff below Litton, an old 
oratory, or chapel, was standing some very few 
years ago, of more early erection than the 
Church. It was a very curious relic of an- 
cient architecture, and full of the quaint 
devices of the early times ; its walls were a 
yard thick, of limestone, supported by but- 
tresses that would have kept their station, 
if unmolested, as long as the rocks from 



TIDESWELL CHURCH. /5 

whence they were taken. But I will give the 
relation I have received from one who re- 
sided within its ancient walls, as best suited 
to the subject ; one who was of consideration 
in the better days of Tidewell ; the venerable 
superstition attaching to it, in no wise indi- 
cating either a vulgar or illiterate mind, for it 
was the old instinct that still outlived the faith 
of reason. « It was said to have been built 
in King John's days, who made this town a 
market by his charter, dated the first of his 
reign, and granted it to Meveril, who was 
lord of the fee ; it afterwards belonged to 
the Foljambes, and then to the Aliens, and 
lastly to the Middletons, who sold the same 
to Colonel Gisburne. My sister Middleton, 
who lived in the house, says, when the kit- 
chen was new paved, many human bones 
were found ; and that a very curious stone 
basin, supposed to be for the holy water, 



/6 TIDES WELL CHURCH. 

was broken up for sand by a servant-maid ; 
that an arched passage went through the 
house, w T ith a door at each end, and that 
against the death of any of the family there 
were always heard voices singing psalms in 
the ancient tongue ; that the voices passed 
through the arch- way, and continued singing 
very sweetly till they reached the church- 
porch, when the sounds died away ; affirming 
she herself heard them a few days before her 
husband's death, Mr. Allen Middleton, who 
died in 1746 ; also that a picture of one of the 
Aliens always slided from its frame previous 
to the death of any one of the family." 

The lovers of antiquity, of harmony, and 
of the wonderful, must all regret that the 
old oratory was taken down. Many very 
respectable houses, of a much later date, 
are now fallen to decay, or occupied for the 
meanest purposes. The father of the cele- 



TIDESW&LL CHURCH. " 

brated Lord Chesterfield resided at Tides- 
well ; the Beeches, who afterwards went to 
reside upon their estates at Shaw T , in Staf- 
fordshire, and several of the descendants of 
Sir John Statham, with many others, their 
contemporaries and equals; but now its glory 
is departed, and its people are gone; the 
stately church yet stands, a temple in the 
wilderness, a monument of ancient days ; 
the brooks that flow through the vallies 
never fail ; the roads are improved, and the 
Lord of its manor, is the pride of its country ; 
a little encouragement, a little support 
might redeem, though it could never restore 
its former aristocratical distinctions. The 
exhausted riches of the mines, its natural 
source of wealth ; and the fluctuating state 
of foreign trade, its artificial means of pros- 
perity, have contributed to its present de- 



78 TIDESWELL CHURCH. 

gradation ; under these circumstances, mo- 
ral example is diminished, and wholesome 
authority interrupted ; and the consequent 
results, are such as the existing state of 
Tideswell present. 



( 79 ) 



CHEE TORR. 



The course of the Wye, the most roman- 
tic flow of water in Derbyshire, is no where 
so strongly marked by the wild characteristics 
of the country, as beneath Chee Torr, four 
miles from its source, near Buxton ; an im- 
mense mass of lime -stone rock, three hun- 
dred and sixty feet perpendicular from the 
river, presenting its awful front, like a half- 
moon battery, that only the hand of the migh- 
ty Engineer who holds the golden compasses 
could raise. The rocks in front rest upon a 
grassy elevation that rises gradually from the 
Wye ; they take a concave sweep through the 
semicircular valley, answering to the bold 



80 



CHEE TORIt. 



projection of Chee Torr ; between its rocky 
surface and the water there is not a footstep 
intervenes ; from its base to its summit, there 
is no lodgment for verdure or apparent shelter 
for bird ; the solemn silence of the valley is 
only interrupted by the sound of unseen 
waters, mingling with those that meet the 
sight \ like the years of eternity, they follow 
each other in perpetual succession, appa- 
rently without beginning and without end ; 
but the immoveable rock stands., and has 
stood the same since its creation, and the 
same it will remain till the great globe itself 
shall be dissolved ; whilst the never-ceasing 
waters flow around its base, as doing homage 
to its greatness. Man feels appalled beneath 
the solemn influence, the lone majesty of 
nature ; here his energies are of no avail, 
his humanities are paralyzed; there is nothing 
that calls for his aid, or that wants his help, 



CHEK TORR. 81 

or would feel his charities, the perpetual 
hush of the waters abstract his mind even 
from himself: he stands upon their margin, 
till the sense of hearing appears given but 
to listen to their lapse, or that of sight, but 
to watch the little white breakers that the 
moss-covered stones interrupt and disperse. 
Sacred from all human innovations appears 
this sequestered dell, neither roads, or wheels, 
or cotton-mills, intrude upon its primeval 
solitude : yesterday, and to day, and to- 
morrow, it was, and is, and shall be the 
same, the for ever, and for ever of terrestrial 
things. The like awful monotony meets the 
eye as ear : — the bright green turf is dark in 
the shades of the valley, the soft bed of ver- 
dure, over which the river flows, tints the 
crystal waters with its emerald hue, and the 
rocks, white as those of Albion, present their 
chalky surface to the view ; no flowers blos- 

G 



82 CHKK TORR. 

som in this wild seclusion; it is nature's only, 
and her verdant livery alone it wears. An 
embrasure in the hills ascends to Worm- Hill. 
May I be allowed to quote from myself?* 
" Enclosures that destroy the natural charac- 
teristics of a country, have defaced the beauty 
of this once lovely village, usurped the li- 
berty of its lawn-like common, and trans- 
formed the broad sparry path by which it was 
divided, into a wall-bound lane; but Chee 
Torr, in all the lonely majesty of its forma- 
tion, can only be changed by its great and 
Almighty Creator.' ! 

Panorama of Youth, Vol. II. 



( 83 ) 



STANTON-WOODHOUSE. 



Darley-Dale, like that of Hope, is in 
beautiful contrast to many of those wilder 
ones in Derbyshire that mark the course of 
its mountain rivers ; half-way up its western 
boundary stands Woodhouse, its walls as 
consolidated, and as grey as the rocks by 
which it is sheltered. Placed upon a natural 
terrace, high above the vale of Darley, 
through which the Derwent flows and spar- 
kles to the view. The village church 
reposing upon its sylvan banks, appears 
the sacred guardian of the scene, hold- 
ing out the blessed promise, that to those 
g 2 



84 STANTON-WOODHOUSK. 

who fear God, and keep his commandments, 
brighter waters and never fading verdure 
shall be theirs. From the garden terrace of 
Stanton- Woodhouse, a combination of beauty 
is spread before the eye : the fine level of 
Darley-Dale, extending from the gates of 
Chatsworth on the left, to the entrance of 
Matlock, a distance of four or five miles ; 
little cottages nestling beneath their elmy 
tufts ) the sparry road winding along the 
course of the river ; the handsome stone 
bridge of several arches that unites its banks, 
the rising mountains on the opposite side, 
partially covered with pines, and terminating 
in heathy moors ; and at its extremity the 
south front of Chatsworth just caught be- 
tween its receding woods, like a rich mass of 
amber in its green ocean bed ; whilst the 
Matlock termination of the Dale is marked 
by revolving columns of smoke, that in sil- 



ST ANTON- VVOODBOUSJS. 85 

very whiteness glitter in the sunshine, or 
brighten the darker day. The House might 
have been an appendage toHaddon. Its thick 
walls and iron-bound windows, circular 
stone stair- way and turreted chimnies, accord 
with that ancient place. One spacious apart- 
ment has been modernised, " perhaps sixty 
years ago/' and the present domestic accom- 
modations are well suited for the habits and 
residence of a gentleman's family. Fine old 
yews and hollies, that have almost attained 
the size of forest trees, grow beneath the 
terrace; and in a line with the House, 
elms that might vie with the chestnut of a 
hundred horse, spread their leafy arms 
around ; whilst beneath the windows, the 
china-rose grows as boldly, and blooms as 
brightly as though it was at home in the 
imperial gardens of the celestial city. More 
elevated and more blessed than " the pea- 

g 3 



86 STANTON-WOODHOUSE. 

sant's nest/' of Cowper, the silver springs 
gush out with never-ceasing freshness, and 
never-failing force, beneath the umbrageous 
canopy of the gigantic elm. I wonder not 
that pagans and the early christians, should 
have consecrated their fountains ; I always 
feel disposed to consider an invisible Deity 
presiding over them. All that is simple in 
manners, beautiful in fancy, and venerable 
in recollection associates with these Wells by 
the way-side. I never pass them without a 
hundred recognitions, scriptural, classical, 
and local, fleeting from my fancy and my 
memory, to my affections : Hagar, Rebecca, 
Rachael, in all their beauty pass before me, 
and stand beside them ; the woman of Sa- 
maria and her Divine Master irradiates them; 
wherever they flow they are a testimony of 
the goodness of God ; wherever their waters 
are gathered together they are a memorial 



STANTON- WOODHOUSE. 87 

of the benevolence of man ; and not any 
where is the association more manifest than 
in those parts of Derby Petrea, where the 
rocks from whence they gush, and the wild 
moorlands from whence they spring, are all 
the variety the extensive tract presents \ the 
dark rocks, the purple heath, the varied sky, 
and the welcome stone basins of water by the 
side of the long-protracted road ! From the 
village of Rousley, on the brink of the 
Derwent, three quarters of a mile of gentle 
ascent, and one quarter of steeper rising, 
leads you to Stanton- Woodhouse, where the 
pure stream flows amidst the richest verdure, 
its sparking current delighting the eye, and 
its liquid music charming the ear. 

The vicinage of Woodhouse combines the 
most attractive objects of a Derbyshire resi- 
dence. First, as foremost, is Chatsworth ; its 
local and natural beauties, its artificial and 
g 4 



88 STANTON-WOODHOUSE. 

graceful decorations, and its sacred asso- 
ciations, with all that is noble in man and 
beautiful in woman, stamps its pre-emi- 
nence in every stage of its erection. What 
it was, what it is, what it is to be. Haddon, 
the grey-towered Haddon, where a history 
lingers in every apartment, and hangs upon 
every turret ; grand in what it has been, 
venerable in what it is ; renowned in pic- 
ture, in story, and in song ; the solem- 
nity of whose exterior, not all the capricious 
windings of the Wye, as it wantons in the 
meadows below, can soften to a smile; is with- 
in half an hour's walk of Stanton, midway be- 
tween it and Bakewell, that lies amidst its 
crystal waters in the vale below. The rocky 
defile of Matlock, through whose marble 
channel the Derwent leads his liquid train, 
presenting a summer assemblage of varied 
life, and a winter scene of exquisite beauty, 



STANTON- WOOD HOUSE. 89 

is within an easy morning's ride of Stanton ; 
that ride through Darly Dale — it would be 
no misnomer to have written Darling Dale — 
distinguished not alone by its sylvan enchant- 
ments, but from being the abode of those 
who, by making it their residence, evince 
their appreciation of its green and lucid 
delights. To look back upon several weeks 
passed amidst such scenes, in the finest wea- 
ther of one of the finest summers England 
has presented, when all the flowers of June 
were in bloom without, and music, beauty, 
and friendship within, is like a retrospect of 
those delicious dreams, that in the morning 
of life imposes a feeling of inexpressible ten- 
derness throughout the day, "redolent of joy, 
and vernal delight/' 



( 90 ) 



NORTON. 



Upon one of those elevations that environ 
Sheffield, some covered by lofty woods, others 
extending in far distant moorlands, each va- 
ried in form and feature, but all beautiful in 
effect, is Norton ; the most northern, as its 
name denotes, of the Derbyshire townlets. 
Its southern precincts are marked by a long 
line of Scotch firs that skirt its scite, and 
from whence the surrounding country is 
seen in panoramic pomp ; to the north the 
town of Sheffield, with its venerable spire, 
and junior towers, and rising back grounds ; 
to the west, the high moors of Derbyshire, 
^ their purple mantle at a distance thrown/' 



NORTON. 91 

diurnally brightened by the gorgeous sun 
sinking beyond their long extended outline, 
with the richly-wooded vale of Beauchief; 
its beautifully headland, and its ancient mo- 
nastic relic reposing beneath ; over which 
the glowing turrets of Banner cross, en- 
closed by embowering shades, unites its tra- 
ditional sanctity with the hallowed dale.* 
Eastward, gently rising grounds, cultivated 
and enclosed by waving hedge-rows, with 
little patches of native wood melting in the 
aerial distance, is in beautiful contrast to 
the richer and wilder prospect of the north 
and west. Thus surrounded, stands Nor- 
ton; its highest point crowned by its an- 
cient church, grey with the mosses of a 
thousand years, and shaded by spreading 
trees, intermixed with those more vener- 
able ones that are synonimous with, and 

* Abbey Dale. 



92 NORTON. 

mementos of, English warfare; from which 
the word, so truly English, has originated, 
"the yeoman of his country;" a title, which, 
like that of esquire, once had a very dif- 
ferent signification to what is now affixed 
to them : each being taken from military 
services, the one from escu, or bearer of 
a shield, held in defence of his chief; the 
other from yuw, the bearer of the bow, 
which was sometimes called the yew ; equal 
in rank and estimation ; but that the escuiu 
took the precedence, as marquis takes that 
of earl. Norton Green ivas surrounded by 
Norton Hall, Norton House, an ancient 
chauntry, and the vicarage, forming an 
area of uncommon beauty and rural ac- 
commodation. The church, standing on a 
gentle rise, forming its southern boundary ; 
and the green, divided by a commodious 
carriage-road, was partly shaded by a row 



NORTON. 93 

of fine trees, that skreened Norton House 
from the west winds, and gave sylvan 
beauty to the rustic lawn ; fronting which, 
beneath the wall that enclosed the opposite 
domain, an expansive pool of water dis- 
pensed freshness and aliment to man, and 
all the lower world. Forest trees, shrubs, 
and flowers, presented themselves in ap- 
proximation with the different habitations ; 
and though all was private property, yet their 
open display was general pleasure. The 
Virginia creeper, in its varied changes or 
green, yellow, and red, covered the high 
square turrets of Norton Hall ; the lilacs 
and liburnums hung over its walled enclosure 
above the water ; the elms and yews of the 
church-yard blended their foliage ; the 
spreading pear trees, and the starry jasmine, 
covered the front of the Vicarage, its little 
court beneath rich in floral beauty; the 



94 NORTON. 

bright ivy and gadding woodbine clothed 
the gables and gateway of Norton House ; 
the old elms throwing their shadows on 
the green below its windows ; the venerable 
Chauntry, standing a little aloof, beneath the 
oak of ages, with the attractive cottage at 
its termination, over -canopied with lofty 
trees, and enclosed in verdure ; and from 
the midst of all, a distant view of the 
Derbyshire hills consummated and con- 
trasted the beauty of the scene. Such was 
Norton Green — but it is such no longer. 
The enclosure act has changed its appear- 
ance. Private convenience may be attained, 
private property certainly is enhanced, but 
rural beauty is lost, time- established liberty 
invaded, benevolent associations Vanished, 
and pictorial effect destroyed ; angular walls 
intersect the once open green, that is now 
parcelled off to its proprietors; but it must 



NORTON. 95 

ever be lamented by those who remember 
its former interest, that amidst all the ter- 
ritory by which they are surrounded, this 
little patch of village freedom could not be 
resigned : that the right of its possession 
should have been maintained is allowed, but 
its privileges and it pleasures should, like 
the verdant hue of its turf, have been pe- 
rennial. Norton church, and its ancient 
cemetery, are happily out of the reach of 
desecration. How awful, for what is more 
awful than time past, are its associations ! 
In the days of the splendid crusader, it stood 
in all the pride of its erection^ the cynosure 
of the piety of its earliest members ; as it 
did when the spirit of British liberty de- 
scended upon Runnymede, asserted her sa- 
cred supremacy, and overawed regal tyranny 
and popish dominion. Through all the glo- 
ries of the Edwards and the Henrys, Cressy, 



96 NORTON. 

and Agincourt have been echoed round its 
walls, and the name of Elizabeth breathed 
in prayer beneath its roofs. Its bells have 
welcomed home again a restored monarch, 
and in him that form of government best 
adapted to the spirit and genius of the Eng- 
lish people, and the British constitution ; 
whilst its Steeple overlooks the vicinity of 
Whittington ; the place where He, who was 
alike the friend of monarchy, but the enemy 
of tyrants, whose monumental inscription 
is the glory of his memory, planned and 
organized that bloodless revolution, that 
he afterwards assisted to consolidate. With 
William and Mary, Ann, and the Georges, 
it has stood in safety and in peace ; and so 
long as time spares its stones and its tim- 
bers, so long may the purpose of its erec- 
tion, and the form of its prayer remain un- 
violated. But the distinctions of Norton are 



NORTON. 97 

not all enumerated; the omnipotence of 
mind will bear witness to its present and 
future celebrity. It is the birth-place of 
Chantry, whose name is probably coeval with 
the ancient chantry-house, that a few years 
ago was in existence ; there the germs of 
his genius were first unfolded, the pomp of 
vision, the proportions of nature, the harmony 
of sounds, and all that works together in the 
gifted mind, and the combination of talent, first 
met his eye and ear ; before the rudiments 
of art had reached his comprehension, or 
its refinements wrought upon his imagina- 
tion, unanalyzed by himself, and unaware 
to what a proud pre-eminence they would 
raise him. At Norton his maternal parent 
resides, in easy competence, and respect- 
able society, receiving the annual visit 
of her honoured son, who, in all the 

H 



98 NORTON. 

pride of his fame, cherishes those feel- 
ings, without which there can be no true 
sense of beauty — for beauty and goodness 
are one. 



( 99 ) 



NORTON-LEES. 



Mearsbeck, the boundary brook of York- 
shire and Derbyshire, winds with so sinuous 
a course, as to have changed its designation 
to the literal one of Maze Brook, and with 
capricious bendings skirts the hill on which the 
Hall of Norton-Lees, below Norton, and above 
Sheffield, appears : an old mansion-house, 
surrounded by adjacent woods, once in- 
habited by a family of Derbyshire gentry, 
and now presenting a specimen of the early 
periods of English architecture 5 and con- 
sequently something of the habits of living 
practised by our forefathers. Buildings 

like the hall of Norton-Lees are every day 
L.ofC. H 2 



100 NORTON-LEES. 

becoming more rare, either falling into de- 
cay, or entirely removed to be replaced by 
others, more suitable to the habits of the 
present occupiers : the few that remain ap- 
pear to have a venerable claim upon the 
posterity of their early owners, as presenting 
some traces of their fleeting life, the faded 
portraits that demonstrate they have existed. 
Our Saxon ancestors built their dwellings 
entirely of wood, as they did their Churches; 
in the periods immediately succeeding, plaster 
was intermixed with wood, with the base- 
ment story built of stone — such is this old 
house. The reigns of York and Lancaster 
tended more to the devastation of the coun- 
try, than its advancement in those arts that 
contribute to the enjoyments of domestic 
life. In the beginning of Elizabeth's reign, 
houses composed of stone, or stone and 
brick, became general, possessing an air of 



NORTON-LEES* 101 

gratideur and accommodation, to which in 
our own improved times we are reverting. A 
proof of the remote antiquity of the old 
house at Norton-Lees, is the large barns on 
its west, their whole structure being wood, 
excepting a low stone basement, and their 
principal support, deep flat beams of oak, 
naturally carved, of which each pair seems 
to have been sawed from one tree; they 
spring from the ground, and form a bold 
gothic arch overhead : such timber frames 
present specimens of the architecture of 
Edward the First, a period when those 
spacious receptacles were destined to con- 
tain the fortunes of their owners, that prin- 
cipally consisted in the produce of their 
land, and in their cattle, in which the for- 
tunes of their daughters were paid ; the 
wardrobe of a wife, then destined to last 
her life, was conveyed from her father's 
h 3 



102 NORTON-LEES. 

house to that of her husband, in a richly- 
carved oak chest, drawn by the oxen that 
formed part of her dowry. From these de- 
monstrations it would appear that the old 
house at Norton-Lees was built in the reign 
of Richard the Second, being at that period the 
residence of a Parker, a person of good posses- 
sions, at Bulwell, in Nottinghamshire, who, 
in that reign, married Elizabeth de Gotham, 
only daughter of Roger de Gotham, son of 
Thomas de Gotham, son of Roger de Go- 
tham, of Norton-Lees, of the county of 
Derby, a family who had evidently resided 
there three generations, and had possessed 
heritable property in the reign of Edward 
the Third ; from that event (the marriage of 
Elizabeth de Gotham) the Parkers lineally 
descended, and continued to reside at Norton- 
Lees to the reign of Henry the Eighth, from 
which we may conclude it was a residence 



NORTON-LEES, 103 

of more importance than their patrimonial 
home. From this family the present Earl 
of Macclesfield is descended, raised to that 
dignity in the reign of George the First. It 
appears strange that the Earl of Maccles- 
field did not found his new- raised rank upon 
the superstructure of his ancestorial con- 
sequence, and have revived that of the 
heiress to whom it owed the possession of 
the estates at Norton-Lees, and whose name, 
as is the fate of those families whose pos- 
sessions descend to daughters, become ob- 
scured, or lost in that which they have 
enriched \ but perhaps Baron de Gotham 
might have been too sapient a designation 
even for a Chancellor of Great Britain, the 
fountain from whence his future honours 
sprung. With that consideration with which 
our forefathers attended to the warm com- 
forts of their habitations, the house fronts 
h 4 



104 NORTON-LEES. 

a rising hill to the south, whilst its north 
aspect was sheltered by native woods, whose 
junior descendants form a fine colonnade, 
that protects and screens the venerable build- 
ing ; from the west winds, that are most 
prevalent, the huge barns were a strong 
barrier 5 and on the east, an antique yew, 
yet standing, was one perhaps of many 
more, that formed the ornamental shade of 
the place. Thus guarded on all sides, and 
warmed within by the immense fires, that 
the abundance of fuel supplied, and the 
large hearths and wide chimneys admitted, 
the original inhabitants felt not the season's 
difference, and there scarcely can be a more 
curious contrast than what their domestic 
economy and habits presented to those of their 
descendants; children of the same fathers, 
country, and climate, not differing more than 
the summer-houses now built by them, and the 



NORTON-LEES. 105 

substantial halls built by their forefathers: 
ere another generation be gone, even these, 
their last relics, will disappear. — Such are 
the fashions of this world — such the destiny 
of its children. 

A perfect picture of this old mansion- 
house has been lately produced from the 
accurate and elegant pencil of E. Blore, Esq. 



( 106 ) 



DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 



The vision passed away, and left us dim, like men who 
had seen lightning." 



The Lady Georgiana Spencer, daughter of 
John Earl Spencer, was married to William, 
fifth Duke of Devonshire, at the age of se- 
venteen, a gem that in all its native lustre 
had alone graced the maternal cabinet, and 
diffused its radiance over the domestic circle, 
from thence resigned to be more richly set, 
and become the brightest jewel in the ducal 
coronet. Wedded to Derbyshire, Derbyshire 
claims her as its own ; exults in the recollec- 
tion of her virtues and her graces, and 



DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 10/ 

mourns for its desolation in her death. 
Youth, beauty, wealth, hereditary and ac- 
quired rank, were the external distinctions 
of her Grace's entrance into the public world; 
a heart alive to every noble impulse, a dispo- 
sition tending to every amiable propensity, a 
temper sweetly influenced by every benevo- 
lent feeling, awakened talent, and cultivated 
intellect, were the native and improved en- 
dowments of the Duchess of Devonshire ; 
formed to give brilliancy to courts, by courts 
she was hailed as the morning star, as the 
sun rejoicing in his brightness, and like that- 
generous luminary, which bids the diamond 
blaze, and deigns to gild the lily, she dis- 
pensed her gracious attentions to all who 
aspired to their influence, and disseminated 
her benignant favour wherever its animating 
rays, or soothing beams, were sought. The 
enthusiasm that the young and lovely Duchess* 



108 DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 

excited at Chatsworth, the magnificent and 
paternal seat of the first Dukes of Devonshire, 
is yet, and will be long remembered. To the 
surrounding gentry^ who flocked there to pay 
their congratulations on an event they hoped 
would fix their noble neighbour and honoured 
principal amongst them, she dispensed the 
most dignified affability, condescending with 
delicate and benevolent discrimination, to 
support those whose pretensions were least 
ostensible ; uniting her sportive graces with 
the young, and bestowing her encouraging 
attentions to the diffident, whilst every part 
of her princely household rejoiced in the fes- 
tive gaiety she promoted : the happiness she 
dispensed returned to her own bosom, for 
when the eye saw her, it blessed her, and the 
testimony of her virtues and attractions were 
the theme, and boast of Derbyshire. Placed 
almost upon the pinnacle of terrestrial gran- 



DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 109 

deur, possessing beauty that excited univer- 
sal admiration, influencing the heart, the 
power, and the fortune, of one of the most 
considerable noblemen of England, in the 
prime, the very prime of youth, the horizon 
of her life was one vast expanse of happiness, 
and she repelled not — where was the being 
so gifted that could ? — the full tide of joy that 
flowed in upon her. To such an enchantress 
Fashion bowed, and appointed her high- 
priestess at her shrine ; Pleasure threw out 
all her flowery allurements to secure so rich 
a votary ; Folly laughed at Wisdom, and 
vowed the lovely smiling captive should be 
his : each made their claims, all had their 
hopes, but the native heart remained the 
same, uncorrupted, unchanged, and when the 
sacred voice of maternal love raised its appeal, 
how beautifully did that heart respond ! Never 
did she lead a fashion, so true to nature, so 



110 DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 

graceful to her sex, so honourable to her 
rank, as when she withdrew from the vortex 
of the world, and retired with her new-born 
blessing, to perform new T -excited duties 
amidst the health-inspiring hills of Derby- 
shire. There, during the early infancy of her 
child, how amiable she was ! how attractive 
she appeared ! The eye of Fancy hailed her as 
the mother of Love, the hearts of her family 
as the preserver of an illustrious race, the 
Being that was to perpetuate the name of 
Cavendish to a far distant posterity : Der- 
went, in his various course, amidst the scenes 
of beauty and sublimity through which he 
passed, reflected not an object that united 
more sweetly with them, than did this lovely, 
youthful, and devoted mother, when with her 
infant in her arms she traced his bankless 
waters in the park of Chatsw r orth — presenting 
it to the passing peasantry as the rival of their 



DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. Ill 

own rosy offspring, " Take the baby/' said 
she, " take it in your arms — be not afraid — 
say whether you have any finer of its age 
amongst you." The delighted people viewed 
and blessed it, and retired to relate to their 
village acquaintance the condescending affa- 
bility of the Duchess, describing it in one 
word, and that was goodness. " Speaking to 
us/' said they, " with as much < goodness," as 
though we were of the same flesh and blood 
as herself." So soothing, so conciliating are 
such condescensions to the poor, and to the 
humble ; not even the benefits flowing from 
her bounty, awakened warmer sentiments of 
respect and gratitude, than her smiles excited, 
" Tell me," said she, in the honeyed accents 
of compassion, to her local physician at 
Chatsworth, " how I can best help those who 
are in want : let your judgment assist my in- 
experience." But to detail the various in- 



112 DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 

stances of her charity, generosity, benevo- 
lence, and condescension, would be to exceed 
the limits prescribed ; the vignette would ex- 
tend to the outline of the widest canvass, and 
the sketch beqome a picture, the circum- 
scribed page a memoir. From the great we 
expect great actions : but when they conde- 
scend to perform kindnesses, confer benefits, 
and diffuse happiness in all the minutiae of 
benevolence, with all the sweetness of per- 
sonal encouragement and consolation, we 
feel that it is not in the pride of humanity, 
but by its principle, they are actuated. Sir 
William Jones, " the most enlightened of 
the sons of men/' was the friend and corres- 
pondent of the youth of Lady Georgiana 
Spencer; the Countess of Spencer, one of 
the most accomplished of women, was her 
earliest preceptress, and her maternal guide ; 
the Lady Henrietta, her most attached friend, 



DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 1 13 

and all who were distinguished by talent, 
by learning, by elegance, by royalty, were 
her associates, courted her smiles, and ac- 
knowledged her distinctions. All that unites 
happily-assorted spirits, " finely touched to 
the finest issues," attached the Duchess of 
Devonshire and the Countess of Besborough : 
sisters in affection as in blood, whether 
pursuing rural pleasures, and promoting 
princely hospitality amid the wild scenery of 
Derbyshire, the Switzerland of England ; or 
seeking health amid the vales of Devonshire, 
the Italy of their native land \ crossing the Alps 
in the pursuit of science, or reposing on the 
banks of the Arno^ in the cultivation of taste : 
the rose of friendship still bloomed for 
them, and under every sky found its soil 
in their united affection. The Duchess of 
Devonshire delighted in the study of elegant 
literature, and ever paid respect and homage 



114 DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 

to those who were distinguished by its pos- 
session. Her love of music sprang from the 
only source that can produce its most beauti- 
ful and pathetic effects, a feeling heart, and 
a refined taste. Long as the simple and 
touching song of " the poor white man " 
shall be remembered, and remembered it 
will so long as taste and feeling exist, it 
will prove how deeply she was impressed by 
each; how the native purity and simplicity 
of her mind was uncorrupted by that world 
which was thought to absorb her. Music 
and poetry are too nearly allied, to be 
divided in a mind where talent is added 
to tenderness and delicacy. The beautiful 
lines written by her Grace, when crossing 
Mount St. Gothard, paint its rugged heights 
with descriptive excellence; whilst the con- 
cluding stanzas express the sweetest feelings 
of the mother's heart, anticipating in a re- 



DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 115 

union with her beautiful children the gra- 
tification of its best affections. In draw- 
ing she was eminently skilled ; the genuine 
taste she possessed was aided by her inti- 
macy with the finest productions of the 
imitative arts that the cabinets of the Duke 
of Devonshire, richly stored as they are with 
paintings, statues, medals, and gems, afford, 
and an acquaintance with those that the 
palaces and galleries of Italy possess. In 
the study and acquisition of mineralogy, she 
evinced deep research and scientific know- 
ledge ; in its pursuit gratifying the powers of 
her capacious mind, and complimenting the 
particular science of her adopted country. 
Two beautiful cabinets of Derbyshire mine- 
rals and fossils, selected and classed by her 
Grace, ornament Chatsworth, most valuable 
to every one who remembers with affection 
and respect the hand by which they were 
i 2 



116 DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 

arranged. In the Duchess of Devonshire's 
intercourse with society, she removed the 
barriers of state and ceremony that had too 
long insulated the higher ranks from its 
pleasures. Her parties, in London, were dis- 
tinguished by its happiest requisites, talents 
and learning, elegance and harmony, with 
the ease and polish of high life ; and when 
it was seen that, under a correct judgment, 
their union derogated nothing from, but 
added grace to her high station, her example 
became a fashion, and her manners a stand- 
ard. Nobly born, nobly allied, and nobly 
endowed, she never attempted to wrap her- 
self up in proud reserve, chill the kind 
affections of the heart, and keep aloof from 
all the sweet charities of life, lest she 
should fail to exact that particular de- 
ference, that, conscious she was entitled to 
receive, she never apprehended would be 



- DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 117 

withheld. In her were united the genuine 
essentials of nobility — dignity and courtesy : 
those who only know the former, know but 
in part what is due to their high station, and 
by such only could the impulse of her sweet 
affability and condescending attentions be mis- 
taken. The venerable, the u time-honoured " 
Countess of Spencer, lived to weep for the 
extinction of that spirit which prompted the 
noble heart of her beloved daughter. The 
anxious hopes, and trembling fears, that the 
last illness of the Duchess of Devonshire 
excited in her own family; the solicitude 
of friends, the respectful inquiries of more 
distant acquaintance, the throng of carriages 
that beset Devonshire-House, the apprehen- 
sions of all, from the prince to the depen- 
dant, evinced how deep an interest her dan- 
ger excited. The hopes of the most sanguine, 
i 3 



118 DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 

and the prayers of the most devoted, received 
their final suspension. To the great, and to 
the gay, to the lovely, and to the virtuous, 
the death of the Duchess of Devonshire 
spoke with a voice that thrilled the soul ; it 
told, that to her who was allied to them all, 
the lot of all was assigned ; that she, who 
like Solomon, had tried all things, was ar- 
rived at that period when all things become 
vanity; and it is humbly trusted, that in 
those awful moments, when but a thin par- 
tition, a shadowy veil, was spread betwixt 
life and eternity, that merciful Being, who 
had witnessed her thousand acts of charity, 
and feelings of compassion to her suffering 
fellow -creatures, would soothe her depart- 
ing spirit with the whispers of his redeem- 
ing peace. To those nearest and dearest, 
who remain to lament her loss, how conso- 
latory must be the reflection of her bene- 



DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 119 

ficence, that she never closed her ear to 
the widow's woe, and. the orphan's wail; 
that of the good things given to her, she 
cheerfully imparted to those who needed 
them ; that she never looked down with dis- 
dain upon the legist of those little ones, 
and that to her children she left the 
Richest legacy a mother could bequeath, 
an unspotted honour, pure, and undefamed, 
which even the breath of calumny never 
sullied; and many a blessing, for that mo- 
ther's sake, shall fall upon their heads ! In 
Derbyshire, where the impression of all her 
early graces, and matured attractions, had 
made the most lively impresssion, the most 
unaffected sorrow succeeded, from the higher 
to the most humble mourner. Amongst them 
her mortal remains are laid, and those amber 
waves that still flow around the palace she 
once irradiated, now reflect her tomb, 
i 4 



( 120 ) 



COUNTESS OF BESBOROUGH. 



The Dead are like the stars by day ; 

Withdrawn from mortal eye, 
But not extinct, they hold their way, 

In glory through the sky. 



The remains of Henrietta Francis, Coun- 
tess of Besborough, second daughter of John 
Earl Spencer, and at the same time her 
infant grandchild, the cherub companion of 
her life and death, were interred in All- 
Saints' Church, Derby, the mausoleum of 
that noble family, with whom she was so 
intimately connected by the ties of consan- 
guinity, of marriage, and of affection. 

Amidst the various excellencies that dis- 



COUNTESS OF BfcSBOROUGH. 121 

tinguished the character of Lady Besborough, 
her susceptibility of all the sweet charities 
and relative endearments of domestic life, 
were most pre-eminent. Highly gifted by 
native talent, and rich in intellectual ac- 
quirements, the tender affections of her na- 
ture was her most peculiar charm, endearing 
her to all upon whom connexion or circum- 
stance conferred the happiness of her asso- 
ciation. Heroic in spirit, she disregarded 
peril and personal hazard, when the tender 
apprehensions of a mother led her to the 
contemplation of death in its most frightful 
form — to the seat of war, and the field of bat- 
tle : there her fond affection was richly repaid 
by receiving him living, who amongst so 
many of his gallant compatriots, had been 
numbered with the glorious dead, on the 
plains of Waterloo. 

According to the wish of Lady Besborough, 



122 COUNTESS OF BRSBOROUGH. 

her mortal remains were laid with those of 
the late Duchess of Devonshire. The spirit 
of sisterly, of sympathetic affection, that had 
fondly united these distinguished women 
in life, ceased only in death. " Rival sis- 
ters," though often applied to them, was 
uot just in its general acceptation. Beautiful 
in person, captivating in manners, and amia- 
ble in disposition, they were too tenderly 
endeared, too faithfully attached to be rivals, 
but as became the daughters of the same 
noble House, and emulous of its hereditary 
distinctions ; and most delightful it was to 
witness the sweet association of their sister- 
graces, which was like the lustre of a beau- 
tiful silk, whose interwoven fabric is formed 
of the richest colours, and as the varying 
hues are presented to the eye, each receiving 
tints more brilliant from their combination. 
Whichever most predominated was the most 



COUNTESS OF BESBOROUGH. 123 

attractive, as their union was the most com- 
plete. When this beautifully blended web of 
life was rent, by the death of the Duchess of 
Devonshire, all that was associated with her 
name and nature, became more sacred to the 
fond survivor; to appreciate her virtues, to 
recal her excellencies, to refer to her local 
attachments, was a tender passport to the 
heart of Lady Besborough, who never wrote 
or spoke of that gracious being, but all that 
was lovely, and animated, and energetic 
glowed in every word and motion; and when 
the silver chord of life was breaking, its 
retrospective vibrations thrilled to that tender 
strain that had ever been in unison with her 
more protracted existence. Derbyshire ! the 
county that had received the Duchess of De- 
vonshire on her entrance into life_, where the 
rosy mornings of their youth had flown on 
downy wings, where the more matured hours 



124 COUNTESS OF BESBOROUGH. 

of their life had reposed in sweet association; 
was chosen as the place of her final rest. 
The wild sublimity of its grey rocks and 
mountain streams, its purple heights and syl- 
van valleys, was congenial with their united 
feelings, and their mutual tastes; and their 
remembrance had been fondly cherished in 
the heart of Lady Besborough : — there she 
chose that her last home should be, and 
there those w T ho in life were so lovely, in 
death are not divided. 

Cold are those noble hearts on Derwent's shore, 
And all their glowing energies are felt no more. 



( 125 ) 



EYAM. 



Surrounded by lofty mountains leading to 
distant moors stands Eyam, upon a natural 
terrace, halfway up those rising hills, the mul- 
titude of which form the High Peak of Derby- 
shire; sheltered by their elevation, and cheer- 
ful in its midway ascent, overlooking rocky 
dales, and verdant dingles, interspersed with 
grassy crofts and shadowy trees. But Eyam, 
the full vowelled Eyam, possesses higher dis- 
tinctions; recorded names that outlive the 
characteristics of a country, and the condi- 
tions of man. 

Catherine Mompesson, the self-devoted 
wife, the pious, the heroic, and judicious pas- 
tor, the resigned and submissive villagers of 



126 IS YAM. 

the sixteenth century, have consecrated Eyam ; 
by the names of Seward, father and daughter, 
of Cunningham the accomplished scholar, 
the elegant companion, and the eloquent 
preacher, it is commemorated. The Churcfc 
and Rectory House of Eyam are contiguous ; 
the lawn of bright and vivid green separates 
the House from the Church-yard; time-worn 
and grey in years, the venerable pile derives 
an added solemnity from the deep shadow of 
the ancient elms and darker yew trees that 
grow within the cemetery. The drawing- 
room windows open towards this sacred en- 
closure, but the little village street was ex- 
cluded by a beautiful avenue of trees, planted 
by Mr. Seward upon an artificial terrace at 
the verge of the lawn, always affording a dry 
and shaded walk. After his death, injudicious 
parsimony, or a lamentable necessity, occa- 
sioned this sylvan screen to be cut down. 



EYAM. 127 

The breakfast room on the back front, the 
room where the household deities were most 
constantly worshipped, and their votaries 
most frequently assembled, opened upon a 
small sloping enclosure, ornamented by a 
profusion of flowers that overhung the village 
houses of the lower part of Eyam, above 
whose humble roofs, the heathy mountains 
to the east arose in sudden elevation, at their 
base the eye extends over the long natural 
terrace that runs in continuation from Eyam 
above the little town of Stoney Middleton, 
so romantically situated at the extremity of 
its rocky defiles ; green patches of cultivation, 
mixed with indigenous verdure, and recent 
plantations, are presented, whilst in the far-off 
landscape, the crystal decorations, and the 
glittering windows of Chatsworth, gild and 
animate the scene. The Reverend Thomas 
Seward, Rector of Eyam, was eminently 



128 EYAM. 

distinguished by those requisites that form 
the gentleman, and constitute the scholar, 
with the virtue and piety that are indispen- 
sable in the moral character, and the clerical 
dispensation. Mrs. Seward was distinguished 
by exquisite beauty and polite manners, and 
the graces and endowments of each highly- 
gifted parent were imparted to their daugh- 
ter. The barrier mountains of Eyam enclos- 
ed a small but intelligent society, where the 
genuine spirit of old English hospitality ex- 
isted in all its cordial warmth, and primitive 
simplicity: to these were added the intercourse 
of kindness with two or three neighbouring 
families of the same degree, and occasionally 
that of courtesy from their more illustrious 
one at Chatsworth, the aggregate forming 
the early society of Anna Seward, for from 
the age of three years she accompanied her 
devoted father in all his excursions of plea- 



EYAM. 129 

sure, of exercise, of piety, of charity, and the 
subsequent period, short as it was, served to 
impress upon her precocious mind, and affec- 
tionate nature, the local endearments of her 
Alpine home; all that met the eye and ear 
of Anna Seward's childhood, was raised 
above the petty objects of common existence, 
and the first seven years of such a being, the 
nature of such a country, determined the 
taste and feelings of her future life. The 
parochial duties of Mr. Seward were limit- 
ed, but those self-imposed numerous. He 
watched over his pastoral charge, as the 
good shepherd watcheth over his flock, re- 
calling the wanderers to his fold, and carry- 
ing the young lambs in his bosom ; " to him 
their hopes, their fears, their wants were 
given :" thus was the love of kindness, and 
the bond of union, interwoven with the 
earliest feelings of the children of his house, 

K 



130 EYAM. 

and those of his parish ; before knowledge 
had unrolled her ample page, they saw how 
lovely goodness is, and felt the beauty of the 
moral world, as the intellectual one became 
displayed. The acquirements of Mr. Seward 
were the result of a highly cultivated edu- 
cation, combining the result of academic 
study and foreign travel ; his poetry w T as the 
poetry of the schools, correct imagery and 
harmonious numbers — but his daughter was 
born a poet, receiving her inspiration from 
the sublime scenery upon which she opened 
her infant eyes ; it came on the wings of the 
gale, on the blast of the mountain, in the 
gathering of the mists, with the rosy light 
of morning, in the purple shades of evening, 
with the silver crescent in the twilight sky, 
in the full glory of the midnight moon ; it 
arose from earth in the perfume of the 
flowers, it descended from heaven in the 



EYAM. 131 

harmony of the skies ; Genius opened wide 
her golden gates, and presented all that was 
beautiful in the material and intellectual 
world to her enraptured gaze ; Joy sparkled 
in her cup, and friends and fortune smiled 
upon her opening life ; all the attraction of 
her after days were the emanations of her 
childhood and her youth : and at Eyam they 
were engendered. Mr. Seward's promotion 
to the canonry of Lichfield removed his 
family from Eyam, excepting as occasional 
residents. Mrs. Seward was in the bloom 
of youth and loveliness, and though married 
to the man of her choice, and the object of 
his most devoted affection, she never ceased 
to regret the gay and more discriminating 
society of her native Lichfield, where she 
had been the object of general admiration. 
She felt that amidst its enlightened circle and 
elegant society, the talents of Mr. Seward, 
k2 



132 EYAM. 

of which she was laudably proud, would be 
more justly appreciated, and his qualifica- 
tions receive their more gratifying tribute. 
Those feminine accomplishments that she 
considered essential to the education of her 
daughters were not attainable at Eyam ; few 
young women, at that period, were qualified 
to teach, and the attendance of masters were 
excluded by their insulated residence ; the 
removal, therefore of Mr. Seward to Lich- 
field, was the consummation of her fondest 
wishes, for him, herself, and daughters ; and 
the secluded rectory of Eyam was left for 
the Episcopal Palace ; the wild sublimity of 
Derbyshire for the sylvan graces of Stafford- 
shire; the select society of early youth for 
the lettered intercourse of a prebendal circle; 
the soft and silent joys of Eyam for the gay 
associations of an elegant city — but never 
did these attractions banish from her heart 



EYAM. 133 

the country of her birth, or the friends of 
her childhood ; radiant in beauty, never did 
she return to Eyam without all the feelings 
of that heart glowing on her fine features, 
and sparkling in her beautiful eyes, recog- 
nizing, w T ith fond delight, its every inha- 
bitant — from the friends of her choice to the 
humblest resident of her native village. On 
these occasional visits — visits that kept alive 
the intercourse of reverence and regard that 
never ceased to exist betwixt Mr. Seward, 
his parishioners, and his friends — Mr. and 
Miss Seward were accompanied by two 
beings whose names are identified with 
theirs, by every feeling of admiration, of 
affection, and of sorrow ; alike formed to 
soothe in friendship, and to charm in love — 
Honora Sneyd and Major Andre — the beau- 
tiful, and the brave. During twelve years^ the 
same roof sheltered, the same room afforded 



134 KYAM. 

repose to those tenderly-attached young wo- 
men^ Anna Seward and Honora Sneyd ; new 
connexions, and more extended duties, with- 
drew Honora from the home of her youth ; 
soon after marrying, she went to Ireland — ■ 
the same country no longer held them ; too 
soon after, dying, the same world contained 
them not; and in the grave of Honora, the 
sweetest sympathies and affections of Anna 
Seward were buried ; for the untimely death 
of Major Andre, the tears of a nation were 
blended with hers, and Eyam became more 
dear as having witnessed their mutual graces 
and talents, and their hapless attachment; 
every apartment of the rectory was sacred, 
every inanimate object they contained were 
cherished memorials of her departed pa- 
rents, sister, and friends. An exquisite little 
poem, entitled " Eyam/' expresses the feel- 
ings it ever excited, with genuine tenderness, 



EYAM. 135 

only to be compared in pathos with the last 
she wrote, a most musical, most melancholy 
retrospective of her life, her " Remem- 
brance." Like the Bird of Beauty, the Lady 
of the Lake, her dying notes are sweetest ; 
presenting, in all the pathos of genuine 
feeling, the climax of her joys, her griefs, 
and her muse. With these claims, shall not 
Eyam raise its fair head amidst the proudest 
places of the Peak, and assert its sanctified, 
its lettered pre-eminence ! Eyam, that only 
insensibility of heart, and dulness of eye, 
can pass through without reverting to what 
it has been, and acknowledging what yet 
remains. 

THE END. 



LONDON: 
PRINTED BY COX AND BAYLIS, GREAT QUEEN STREET. 



APR 19 1902 



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